Flight of the Phoenix
by Hikaru Irving
Summary: AU midgame xover w/Symphonia. He was but a shadow, a pale imitation of the magnificent phoenix, wings clipped, never meant to fly. But when the cage opens, even the flightless will strive to soar.
1. Prologue

Hikaru: I'm almost done with the synopsis for this story, and I will update on a regular basis (each weekend ... no later than two weeks if I'm having difficulty with the story or real life situations). It should also be noted that this story is not top priority at the time of writing (Innocent Until Proven Guilty is my top priority until I finish it).

Disclaimer: In no way am I associated with Namco Bandai or the Tales Studios that turned out Tales of the Abyss and Tales of Symphonia. I do not make a material profit from this writing; it is purely fan-made fun.

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Luke had read somewhere before (some philosophical jargon back at the manor in Baticul) that hands were often the most expressive and lively part of the human body. There was never a time period of more than a few fleeting seconds wherein a person was not moving his or her hands or doing something with them.

The way people moved their hands was rather akin to how water moved--fluidly and freely without a second thought.

Luke never appreciated the free ranged movement of his hands before now.

He shook his hands now; the rusty shackles binding his wrists to the stone wall jangled audibly. As always, whatever movement allowed was very limited, and his wrists already had deep welts where the heavy, cold metal had pressed painfully into his skin.

Chained above his head and pinned to the stone wall, Luke could not move much at all, propped up against the wall as he was. He was sitting upright against the wall, the uneven brick work digging into parts of his back and shoulders.

His ankles had loose chains about them as well, but they were by no means as restricting as the shackles on his hands were.

Cooped up here in the dark dank cell his captors had provided him with, Luke had plenty of time to dwell on things and thoughts.

In hindsight, it had been obvious.

Luke and his ragtag war band had been in Tataroo Valley, on their way to its Sephiroth to measure the core's vibration frequency to help the Sheridan researchers convert the Tartarus into a device to quell the core's shaking and allow Auldrant's crust to solidify, thus the continents of the Outer Lands would not sink into the mantle.

Tataroo Valley was a confined area, with very poor footing and plenty of places for enemies to hide.

Only Luke and his cohorts had no idea it could successfully hide fully two entire units of Oracle Knights and their commanding God-Generals.

They had also had no idea that their objective had been only one, possibly two, of their number.

Van's main obstacle was Luke's group, and how they'd been commanding the passage rings to slowly lower the land instead of letting them drop outright like Van originally wanted. Sure, he could have mettled with the rings in such a way as to hinder Luke's group, but it proved too much of a hassle for Van if he were going to such lengths to stop his adversaries.

Separately Legretta the Quick and Sync the Tempest would have been containable by Luke's group, but together, they were nigh unstoppable. During the course of the battle of epic proportions that followed their ambush, Luke had wondered why Legretta and Sync had not thought of working together before now.

Sync had dived in on Luke, driving him away from the others--Luke had not noticed, he was too busy fighting to keep his life, perhaps some of his limbs, thank you very much--while Legretta kept the others at bay with her lightning-quick and freakishly precise gunfire and a choice few fonic artes.

All in all, it had not taken very long for Luke to lose consciousness and the battle.

When he had come to, he was disarmed, bound, in a most uncomfortable cell that rested Yulia knew where on Auldrant.

He also had no idea how much time had transpired after the incident in the valley, or where his companions were, what they were doing now--or if they were planning on finding him.

Given the extremity of the situation, Luke doubted his companions would be coming to rescue him anytime soon. Van could start dropping the remainder of the Outer Lands at any given time, and it would be well for his team to be working their fingers to the marrow to make sure the Outer Lands wouldn't fall at least.

They at least should have measured the core's vibration frequency by now, and they were probably in Sheridan handing over the results to Cathy, Hencken, and the rest of the elderly craftsmen.

Luke growled as he jangled his restraints again, wanting nothing more than to at least have his hands free. Even realizing they wouldn't be coming loose anytime soon, Luke shook them harder, ignoring the cuffs biting into his wrists.

Why was he so helpless? Could he do anything right on his own?

Guess it was the consequence of being such a failed replica.

Luke spent quite a chunk of time struggling against his chains, stopping only when he felt thin streams of blood dripping down his arm. Heaving a sigh, Luke leaned back against the wall, head hung low.

He had fallen into an unclear, uneven sleep when a door slammed open.

Luke jolted upright, slamming his head against the wall. Blinking back tears of pain, he had to close his eyes for the oppressively strong light flooding the dungeon.

Footfalls resounded against the flagstone flooring.

"Looks like the little puppet is awake now."

Luke inwardly groaned at the sneery voice. His vision swam, but given time his eyes focused.

Sync the Tempest stood at his door, smirking at him through the bars. Though Luke couldn't see Sync's eyes for the mask, he imagined they were full of delight at his present situation, especially since it was Sync that had brought him in.

"Not much of a puppeteer," Luke muttered venomously, "if he has to go to such extremes to keep the puppet from walking of its own accord."

At this Sync laughed, amused.

"If you'd have just died at Akzeriuth--like you were supposed to--then we could have avoided all this unpleasantness."

The iron bars rattled as Sync opened the door--there was a tray of food and water in his hands. Luke glared as the young God-General approached him. House Fabre had very proud blood, and Luke hated for anyone, let alone an enemy--to see him like this, humbled and defeated.

Sync crouched down before Luke, to better view him at eye level. Plopping the food tray down next to Luke, the God-General grinned maliciously.

"Wow. I can't believe how easy it was to bring you down. And you're the only thing in Van's way? This has to be some bad joke."

"Did you come here just to insult me?" Luke spat.

"Keep that up," Sync snarled, "and you'll go hungry. I can't guarantee regular feeding times."

That shut Luke up.

Sync had on his person a ring of keys--but he never made for them once. Luke had been hoping that the God-General would unlock at least one of his hands so he could eat.

No such luck.

When Luke had first laid eyes on Sync he had no doubt in his mind that Sync had something of a twisted streak in him; he seemed to like seeing others in pain. As if the way he had laughed so delightfully upon activating Guy's curse slot weren't any indication.

During the entire time Luke was hand-fed by Sync, he was ablaze with shame and indignation. Sync had chortled and teased with the sick kind of joy a child would have when he played with a new toy.

If Luke weren't as hungry as he was there was no way he'd put up with it.

As little of the stale, hard bread there was, it seemed to take forever for Sync to finish handing Luke bits and pieces.

But getting the water wasn't any more pleasant; in fact, it was even worse.

Luke had sputtered and coughed up what little water he managed to keep down--Sync had poured the entire flask down his throat with no break in between to allow Luke breath.

"Well, wasn't that fun," Sync snickered, collecting the food tray. "It'll be interesting to see how long you last."

With that Sync was gone, and the light he'd brought with him. Luke was plunged into impeccable darkness once again, whatever pride and dignity he had salvaged from losing the battle and getting captured now utterly and completely destroyed.

In matter of time less than a day or two Luke had been reduced to nothing more than the plaything of a child God-General.

Luke hoped to high heaven and deep sea that the others would think of at least having someone else come out to find him.


	2. Failure

Hikaru: Thanks for your reviews! They make me want to write faster.

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It hadn't taken Sync long to be bored with just humiliating Luke during the--irregular--feeding times. It seemed Van and the God-Generals had a purpose more than just keeping Luke from the passage rings as well.

Sync watched Luke simply hang from his chains, head hung low--his face was bloody, bruised, and swollen, and his stomach had signs of beating as well. Sync jabbed a foot at his captive's middle again, the corner of his lips twitching into the semblance of a smile as Luke coughed and gasped for proper breath.

"What are the others up to?" Sync demanded. "What are your plans for beating Van? Answer me!"

A punch to the face, a kick to the ribs. Luke's chains rattled with the sudden force, and glimpses of deep cuts peeked from their sheath of iron. He clenched and unclenched his fingers, the only free movement in his hands left to him.

The Fabre glared at Sync, emerald eyes smoldering.

"You're a child God-General. Don't you have a decent head on your shoulders?"

Sync threw a punch at the wall, missing Luke's face by mere inches. The prisoner felt the sharp sear of Third Fonons channeled in the strike. If that had hit ...

"My head's not hollow. We know you're screwing with the passage rings--Van could try using the other rings to stop that, but using the rings in the normal way is dangerous to his well being. That, and your forcing your orders to the rings with hyperresonance royally screwed up the network--normal means of commanding won't suffice anymore."

Luke heard the truth in the Tempest's words. The passage rings were ancient technology from the Dawn Age; there was no way they could know the full consequences of operating the passage rings--or attempts to. After the lowering of Rugnica and Chesedonia, Jade had said the passage rings had been rendered unstable and that the Sephiroth themselves were strained, going out of control.

One way or another, the Outer Lands would fall when the Sephiroth failed or else when Van decided to drop them first.

"Judging from the way Chesedonia and Rugnica came down without harm," Sync continued thoughtfully, "it's a pretty safe assumption to say you want to bring down the Outer Lands safely. But the problem is how. We don't quite know how you're going about it--lowering the land itself, we know that, you command the rings--but what about the liquefaction of the crust? How will you prevent the land sinking in the mantle when the Sephiroth fail?"

For once, Luke knew the answers to these questions and more. His mind subconsciously recalled that day in Sheridan when his party had made plans to be able to keep the crust from liquefying without having to stop the Planet Storm, an essential civil resource.

The Tartarus would be able to match the core's vibration frequency, canceling it out and allowing the crust to solidify. As long as the Planet Storm went on as normally and the Tartarus didn't give out, there would be no easy way for Van to carry out his replication plans.

Sync's voice brought Luke out of his thoughts.

"Come to think, you guys did contact Belkend researchers and Sheridan craftsmen. It seems unlikely that they could manage anything of such a large scale, but you never know ... "

Luke's eyes went wide, and Sync instantly knew he was onto something. Smirking, the God-General bent on one knee before his captive, at eye level.

The way Luke couldn't see Sync's eyes but could hear and feel his malicious intent frightened him.

"You could just spill it now," Sync's mouth stretched in a Cheshire Cat grin, "and save yourself a lot of pain and grief."

Indeed being in the God-Generals' captivity was a whole lot of pain and suffering--Luke was trapped in pitch darkness all hours of most days, feeding times were irregular (the food itself wasn't exactly fine dining), and when Sync did deign to come down to the dungeon it was usually for a beating.

And Sync the Tempest dished out quite the beating.

Luke was sore all over--from being in the uncomfortable, awkward position he kept at all hours slumped against the wall, and the countless bodily injuries Sync had dealt him.

A part of him would have been indignant at the very idea of being beaten to a pulp by a sneery child no older than fifteen, possibly younger, but at this point, Luke simply didn't have it in him to protest any part of his captivity anymore.

If only Luke had been stronger--if only he'd thought of Van setting up an ambush in a place ideal for ambushes--if only--if only--

If only he wasn't such a failed replica.

Asch certainly would never have let himself be captured the way Luke had--Asch would have _fought back, _he'd have had the sense to think of the possibility of an ambush, kept a cool head, perhaps even had a backup plan should his initial one fail.

He certainly wouldn't have flailed his arms and fallen over like Luke did.

Luke could just imagine what Asch would say to him now--_stupid replica, getting yourself caught by the enemy! What use are you if you can't even fight back?_

Useless, useless, useless.

In all the incidents that really counted, it had been Asch, not Luke, who had managed to get anything done right--_Asch _had been the only one to recognize the danger at Akzeriuth, _Asch _had saved Noelle at Daath, _Asch _had been the one to rescue Tear and the others in Baticul, thus indirectly rescuing Luke and Natalia from attempted murder by the king's hand.

And what had Luke done?

_Luke _had destroyed the city he was sent to protect, _Luke _hadn't been able to lift a finger to help Noelle, _Luke _would have let himself and Natalia be murdered by the royal family for the sake of a meaningless holy war ...

The original Light of the Sacred Flame certainly outshone its pale imitation.

This was just what he deserved--what was that one saying, that Guy used to say back at home?

What goes around comes around.

Luke clenched his fists, jaw set, mouth stretched in a grim line.

"No." he growled. "I won't tell you or Van or any of your followers anything! Go ahead, beat me to a pulp, starve me, whatever--I will not betray my companions."

Luke wasn't entirely sure if he could call them "friends." That would certainly be much more than he deserved. They were probably better off cutting ties with him anyway.

Sync chortled, amused by the newly rekindled determination in Luke's eyes.

"Too bad," he clicked his tongue, "we'll find out one way or the other, sooner or later. We'll find out just how resilient defective replicas are."

Luke bit back his retort--it was true, he _was _a defective replica--but that did not make it any easier to swallow.

Sync mockingly bid him farewell as he left, and Luke was submerged in unknowable darkness once more.


	3. Off the Edge of Despair

Hikaru: Sorry for the slight negligence! For some reason my teachers thought it would be a good idea to pile on all their uber hard work on my shoulders at once.

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As he weakened, time became a meaningless, incomprehensible thing. He could count the passage of time in seconds, then minutes, then hours ... but ultimately he could never accurately measure how much time he'd spent in this cell, or how much time would come to pass before he'd be set free--or perish with that false hope.

In fact, between bouts of hunger, horrid biodegradable stuff that could be crudely called food that he could hardly keep down, and excruciating physical beatings, Luke found he couldn't focus on much of anything anymore. Sitting alone in the dark, his numb thoughts drifted to one thing only, or rather, one person--Tear.

After the fall of Akzeriuth, Tear was the first one to place something akin to a dredge of trust in his doubtful existence, and even before then she'd helped him countless times, whether it was healing a wound, saving his hide in the midst of battle, or helping him understand the world around him and its grim realities.

Those trains of thought always led to a single station, the one where he kept the lessons about fonology that Tear had pounded into him relentlessly after he'd received the books from her in Yulia City.

It was hard to keep a firm mental hold on anything these days (or had they been weeks? Months?), so Luke had formed a mental image in his mind of a series of train stations, tracks that led to other stations, and the actual vehicles that carried him back and forth between them.

This station, the one about fonology and the world of Auldrant, he imagined with a likeness to Yulia City sans the ominous clouds of miasma storming around it.

In it the people manning the station were dressed in garb similar in design to residents of Yulia City--dark brown and black with threads of gold making patterns and designs on the ensembles.

Luke's mental self stepped off his train and he headed off toward the building with a picture of Tear and Van on either side of the door--the two people who taught him all he knew about fonology and artes, fonic or otherwise.

In this room, he could concentrate and recall the knowledge of fonons he'd learned--right now he was in darkness, always surrounded by the First Fonon, the cell was made of stone, so there was no shortage of Second Fonons, and Third Fonons were always plentiful, as it was the fonon of air, and there was a considerable presence of Fourth Fonons--it certainly was cold, damp, and dank down here.

A while ago it had dimly occurred to him that he might attempt to use a fonic arte to break free of his bonds, possibly even his prison--but he was not trained in the use of powerful fonic artes, and he needed a powerful fonic arte to get out.

The best he could do was an intermediate form--the combination of a strike arte with a field of available fonons to create an elemental strike arte, a field of fonon change. He knew what one had to do to build and execute a fonic arte--take in the fonons, use his fon slots to make the fonons resound, causing fonic resonance--not to be confused with hyperresonance--to generate the power to form the arte, bring the energy and fonons together with a fon verse to shape them, and then finally release it, aiming at the desired target.

Field of fonon changes had the same concept, even an "incantation" of a kind. But they were powerful only when he had a weapon, and he wasn't entirely sure he attempt to break through metal bonds or doors with his bare limbs.

Besides that, he wasn't even really attuned to the fonons he was currently surrounded by--he'd only used the First Fonon once or twice, the Second Fonon only in conjunction with another fonon type, and same going for the Third and Fourth Fonons. In fact, all the fonons he was used to--the Seventh, Sixth, Fifth--were in a disturbing shortage right now.

True, whenever Sync deigned to visit, he would open a door beyond this filthy little dungeon and let in a flood of light--but it worked against him in that the immense flood of Sixth Fonons canceled out the First Fonons gathered in this dungeon, rendering any artes he could have attempted with the First Fonon useless.

Sync also usually ended up taking a majority of the freely flowing Third Fonons with him when he left, Second Fonons were rigid and hard to manipulate (also very "heavy" to handle), and Luke doubted that the Fourth Fonon would help him any here.

What Luke couldn't understand was why there was such a startling shortage of Seventh Fonons. He meandered about the room in the Fonology station, looking at the portraits of Tear or even Van for an answer, but finding nothing, the imaginary, photo realistic oil paintings only staring blankly at him.

Staring at Tear's portrait, the rusty gears in Luke's mind began to turn again. If there was a shortage of Seventh Fonons, that meant, according to the established laws of fonic attraction and repulsion, a denser form of Seventh Fonons was sucking up the ambient Seventh Fonons.

But ... what could be taking the Seventh Fonons? His mind drifted back and forth between its stations of memory, and he came across the one where the knowledge he'd gotten from Jade was stored--it'd actually be more accurate to say "gleaned" from the Colonel; the man never did fancy himself as an instructor.

In that station, imagined to resemble a Malkuth office (not unlike the actual offices in Grand Chokmah), Luke searched the documents there until he found what he was looking for--a battle tactic used in wars past between Kimlasca and Malkuth was to keep fonist POW's powerless, fonic machines were used to attract freely flowing fonon types the imprisoned fonists were most adept at using, thus keeping the prisoners powerless to break free via fonic artes.

Did that mean the God-Generals--Van--was using a technique akin to that to keep Seventh Fonons from him, to stop him from attempting a hyperresonance?

Luke recalled quite vividly the incident on the boat headed for Baticul wherein he had accidentally caused a small hyperresonance--he dearly wished for that sort of freakish luck now.

Not that he'd have the energy or endurance to attempt a hyperresonance now, even if it was to escape from this hellhole he'd been suddenly cast in. He feebly rattled his chains--the noise of iron scraping against stone and flesh grated on his ears.

Luke had no idea how long he'd been kept here, and Sync the Tempest wasn't inclined to tell him even if he were to ask. Although it felt like an eternity and then some, he was certain it couldn't have been more than a week ... or was it three? Dammit, he just didn't know anymore.

What he did know was that he needed to get out as soon as humanly possible--he was weakening, his mental state was diminishing (but he was still articulate enough to know it), he was always severely hungry and the scraps left to him could hardly be called nourishing ... he was sure he looked in a right state; he was most certainly thinner now, too thin--he felt how his clothes seemed to hang on him, fitting more loosely than they had before. He was losing muscle mass, his strength, and perhaps even his bone density had taken a blow or two--

Sighing, he leaned his head against the stone wall behind him, lacking the strength to move about much more than that. His train of thought had derailed, and the resulting wreck rendered him exhausted although he hadn't actually done anything more exerting than try to choke down the biodegradable mess Sync had called food a while ago--and then only hurl it back up after a trying intestinal workout.

At first the stench of the cell had him reeling, but now he'd been locked here to sit in his own filth for so long it just didn't bother him anymore. He did hope every now and then in a rare spark of good humor that someone, anyone might attempt to save him, but that spark dried up in an instant at the idea of anyone at all, part of his old crew or not, seeing him reduced to this.

A plaything of a child God-General, and left to rot when he had gotten bored with it.

What else would they do to him? He was of no use other than information on what Tear and the others were doing to stop Van, and he'd already proven himself trustworthy in keeping that information secret--the innumerable scars, gashes caked with dry blood and bruises all over his body were badges of his beaten, rusted honor--what little of it could be called honor.

Luke did often wonder what more the God-Generals would do to him to squeeze that vital information out of him if they were going to attempt it again--he never liked to entertain these thoughts for very long; once he terrified himself into thinking they'd toss him to Arietta's pets.

A spectacle that Sync would love to see, Luke thought bitterly, gritting his teeth as he imagined Sync laughing his fool head off as Arietta's ligers tore him limb from limb.

Arietta would be happy, too--the murderer of her mother and unborn--unborn!--siblings would be killed, she'd have her revenge.

He thought many times that perhaps the world would be better off without him in it to royally screw up everything he'd worked to protect, but every time he thought of it, of just giving up and allowing the God-Generals to have their murderous way with him, Tear's face would appear to him in the darkness.

She would be frowning at him, her eyes cold and hard, just as they were when she attempted Van's life in the Fabre Manor. Whenever Luke would try to explain to her that he had to die, there was no other way, Tear would shake her head, and turn away from him--and then something, a chord, had been struck within Luke, and he would know he had to hang on, if only just a little longer.

Never let it be said that Luke fon Fabre did not fight until his last breath.

Asch certainly wouldn't give up on his life so easily--in fact, Luke didn't doubt that Asch would have been out of here and hiking his merry way to wherever the heck he went to go by now.

_Thump._

Luke jumped at the noise beyond the dungeon--and it happened again.

_Thump._

It sounded like stomping, angry footsteps, or heavy objects being thrown around--he couldn't quite tell.

Then he heard muffled voices.

As time passed they got louder, as if the parties arguing were coming closer to the door, to his dungeon, and Luke had to shut his eyes as the door was slammed open with quite the audible _bang _against the stone wall and a torrent of Sixth Fonons was released in the dungeon. Luke would swear that he could actually _hear _the First and Sixth Fonons brutally canceling one another out.

The arguing was so ferocious that it took Luke a few moments to distinguish what was being hollered back and forth between the participants, and then to whose voices the words belonged to.

"--all this time you've been keeping it under here and never told me!"

"There was no reason to tell you, Reaper, and besides, what possible use is he to you!? All he's good for is the dirt he has on the others on Van's plan, and he won't spit it up!"

Luke slowly opened his eyes, his retinas still stinging with the onslaught of Sixth Fonons. Standing in the hall before his cell were two God-Generals, Sync, and--Lorelei have mercy--Dist the Reaper. Luke bit back an abrupt, irrational chuckle at the sight of the twiggy God-General, the Reaper--or the "Rose," or the Runny--

Dist gave Luke a sharp look, his eyes hidden in the glare on his round glasses.

"What is it laughing at?" He asked pointedly.

Sync seemed to follow his co-worker's gaze before shrugging.

"Oh, it's always like this now, nothing to worry about."

"Well, how can I expect this specimen to help me in my experiments with memory particles if you drove it half insane already?!"

"He brought it upon himself!" Sync retorted, "He could have easily saved himself all this grief if he' d only told us what we bloody well wanted to know!"

Luke worked his jaw, but his vocal chords seemed awfully ... stuck, as if frozen in place. After a time, he managed a few words.

"... you, I won't ..."

Sync's ears perked.

"Oh, I thought you'd forgotten how to speak."

Dist adjusted his glasses, although he did so by holding one of the round lens between thumb and forefinger, unlike how Jade would put a finger to the bridge of his glasses and push them into place.

"Seems like it's still capable of rational thought of a kind--doesn't sound like complete babble."

Sync cocked his head to one side, a twisted grin coming to his lips.

"Hey--I heard that these ... experiments of yours are no cup of tea for the subjects."

Dist gave a half-hearted shrug.

"Erm, yes, well, can't expect everything to be candy bunnies and flowers all the time."

"Perfect!" Sync clapped his hands together as he unlocked the cell door, throwing it open with a loud clanging of metal on metal. "Then maybe you'll have more luck getting this idiot to talk."

Dist took a step forward into Luke's enclosure, then stopped short, a disgusted look upon his face.

"Eughh," his nose wrinkled, "Filthy! I will not allow this rabble to dirty my pristine lab equipment! Give him a bath or something!"

Without another word Dist turned on his heel and left. Sync stepped into the cell, looking down on his prisoner.

"No way in hell I'm touching you," Sync sneered, although he did grudgingly unlock the shackles binding Luke's hands.

His hands fell heavily to his sides; they felt like lead weights. He could barely move them, let alone lift them--his wrists bore deep, numerable welts caked with dry blood--what he had to show for attempting to break his bonds.

He didn't notice what Sync was doing--until quite suddenly torrents of frigid water gushed over him. The sheer pressure of the water forced him the ground, he had no strength to fight it, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't--

"Ah, more out of control than I expected," Sync said as if this sort of thing were a daily occurrence, "but that got the worst of it off."

Lying on the ground, drenched, cold, and dizzy, it took Luke a few moments to comprehend that Sync had just used a Fourth fonic arte--Splash, to be precise. Although it might not have been the best way for a wash, Luke had agree it did in fact get the worst of the grime off.

Next thing he knew he was being jerked to his feet--it hurt so badly from the countless bruises and scars, not to mention his long-idle body was not used to such movement in so long.

"There's a bathroom down that hall," Sync pointed the direction, giving Luke a sideways look, "Dist will come back for you later. You can walk on your own, can't you?"

Luke was struggling to stand up, his muscles were screaming in protest at the movement. His thoroughly drenched clothing didn't help much, either--the wet clothing was heavy now.

Shakily Luke followed Sync down the dungeon's hallway to the aforementioned bathroom--Sync rather rudely shoved him in there, telling him to hurry up.

A bathroom in a dungeon ... ? Luke looked around. It was--decent, to say the least. To him it looked luxurious after spending Lorelei knew how long in that Yulia forsaken cell. The bathroom was clean, in good condition--this must have been for the use of the guards, although Luke never saw any guards down here. There must not have been much need for guards to contain a single helpless replica.

The first thing Luke did was look in the mirror--he did look awful. His hair was messy, knotted, greasy and matted with other unknowable filth, his body was covered in scars and bruises, many of them still caked with dried blood. His teeth weren't exactly pearly whites anymore, either. And he had been right about being thin, a little too thing--his clothes looked baggy and loose and certainly felt that way, too.

But what caught Luke's attention the most about his appearance now was his eyes. Once they were bright like the young leaves on a tree in the springtime. Now they were dark like poison, and so ... dead-looking.

He couldn't stand it. Had Asch's eyes looked like this ... when he had been imprisoned in Choral Castle? When he had been replicated, been replaced, and his family and friends none the wiser?

Luke turned away from the mirror, toward the shower. There was a full bar of soap in the soap dish attached to the wall, and plenty of washcloths, razors, shampoo, conditioners, and so on.

Without hesitation he switched on the hot water. It'd been a long time since he had been able to shower or bathe with hot water--the Albiore had running hot water, yes, but it often ran into cold water, what with so many people onboard, more than of half of which were women (and thus commandeered the right to get hot showers first).

The thought brought a small smile to his face.

As he peeled off his soaked clothing, Luke wondered what to do with it. This was his only set of clothing on him; he doubted the God-Generals would provide him with a change. Though still dirty and grimy, his ensemble had benefited from the cold shower Sync had ever so kindly given him.

He decided to hang them to dry while he showered.

Luke knew he did not have the luxury of a long shower, if indeed Dist was going to come back for him later. From what he had seen of the strange God-General so far, it didn't seem as if Dist would be the patient type, especially when it came to being kept from his experiments because his subject wanted a _shower._

Fighting the awful tangles in his hair to rub in shampoo and conditioner, Luke had a sudden thought. Why did Dist want to perform experiments on him? Luke was just a prisoner to keep the others from succeeding in lowering the land, and a replica at that--he blinked. Oh, right.

It was _because _he was a replica that Dist wanted to experiment on him. What had Dist said at Choral Castle?

_"This is a perfect creation! Even the fonon frequency is the same!"_

Jade said before that previous experiments with fomicry yielded no hopeful results with creating perfect isofons. So a fontech and fomicry freak like Dist no doubt had a fit when he learned there was the only perfect isofon in the world caged in a dungeon and no one had told him about it.

And not only was Luke a perfect isofon, he was Asch's perfect isofon, therefore could cause a hyperresonance of his own volition--Luke doubted that Asch, or Van for that matter, would have let Dist use the original in an experiment or twenty.

When he shut off the water and began to dry himself off, he suddenly became apprehensive. He recalled how he felt after having his synchronized fon slots opened in Choral Castle--it hadn't been all sunshine and flowers.

Sync's words echoed in his mind.

_"Then maybe you'll have more luck getting this idiot to talk."_

--------------------

Hikaru: Fun fun times for Luke, I know, ha ha.


	4. Fragmen de Memoria

Hikaru: Hooray! The school exit exam is over now, which means my sophomore friends will be back! Down side ... no more early out days, and I'll have homework again. Boo. Hahah.

-------

He tried to draw out finishing up in the bathroom as long as he possibly could--he did have a good reason to. He brushed his teeth rigorously over and over again, spat out, rinsed his mouth, took a swig of mouthwash, rinsed again, and started the cycle all over again. Having a clean mouth was one of the little things prior to his imprisonment he missed the most.

After brushing and rinsing six times over, Luke did the same thing with the dental floss, although, what with not having any real food to eat all this time, there wasn't much stuck between his teeth.

There was insistent, repetitive knocking on the door, and Luke dropped the little box of floss in his surprise.

"Are you quite done in there?" An irritated, but unfamiliar, voice called, muffled by the door. "Dist the Reaper is getting rather impatient, and I'd like it if he didn't have to take it out on us, replica."

Ah. It was one of Dist's Oracle Knights, then, coming to fetch him. Of course; it would be below any of the God-Generals to come to him, he must go to them. If he weren't a replica, he would have insisted the other way around--most Daathic people were displaced people looking for a fresh start, there was no way they'd have compared to a royal duke's son.

But even though Luke liked to think of himself a member of House Fabre still, that didn't change the fact he was a replica, and replicas were below original people. He doubted that even if he were an original that the God-Generals would heed the social code for addressing nobility.

They certainly hadn't when they placed Asch in Daath, anyway.

At the Oracle Knight's impatient knocking again, Luke called, "I'm going," and began to dress as he hastily raked a comb through his hair. His clothing was still damp, but it would dry.

Outside, the dungeon hall was still dark, although there were fonstones attached to the ceiling that provided dim light of a sort. The Oracle Knight pushed Luke forward into the hall with the flat of his sword blade, and Luke nearly tripped. The shower had refreshed him a bit, but he had almost forgotten how weak he had become.

Once again Luke wanted to drag out the amount of time it would take to reach Dist--Sync's remarks about Dist's experiments being no "cup of tea" for the subjects kept ringing in his mind, and when he tried to block it out, Sync's voice only got louder.

"Move it along!" The Oracle Knight said irritably, his voice echoing in his helmet. He gave Luke another bump with the flat of his blade, and reluctantly Luke went forward.

They came to the staircase Sync had used to get to the dungeon--Luke often wondered where on Auldrant he was being held; perhaps now he would get to see. The guard drove him up the stairs, and Luke opened the door. Was it just his imagination, or was it heavier than a usual door?

He had to close his eyes again when they were assaulted by a torrent of Sixth Fonons; a strong light source definitely illuminated the next room. It was actually a hallway, sort of narrow, but wide enough to allow at least three people to walk side by side.

Upon opening his eyes, all Luke saw at first was color--dark colors, like dark brown and green, against lighter colors--white, gold--in sharp contrast. Then, seeing the emblems emblazoned on each of the doors in the hallway, Luke's jaw dropped.

_Daath._

He was being held prisoner in Daath. All this time, he'd been wondering where on Auldrant the God-Generals--Van--had planned to keep him, and it had been in the most obvious place possible. But Luke had been unconscious between his defeat in Tataroo Valley and waking up in his cell. He had been knocked out the entire time the God-Generals transported him from Tataroo Valley to Daath? A ship going from Tataroo Valley to the Padamiyan continent took two and a half days with the ship going its fastest.

"Quit gawking," the guard snarled, and Luke snapped out of his stupor. The Oracle Knight proceeded to lead the way then, as Daath's inner wings and sanctums were winding and nearly identical to the casual visitor--or prisoner.

Luke knew the dungeon must be somewhere underneath the titanic cathedral; he had often heard muffled noises above him that indicated activity of people, although at the time he had attributed that to his own degrading sanity.

But now Luke felt slightly uplifted. Now that he knew where he was being held, all that was left was the matter of getting out of the cathedral. Ion wasn't here right now; he'd be with the others to help them open the Daathic seals on the remaining passage rings although now they had a problem of not having a passage commander ... Luke shook his head as he walked; the others would think of something.

Besides, Ion had allies here in Daath, one of which was Maestro Tritheim--if only Luke could get to one or more of those allies, they'd be his ticket out of Daath and out of the hands of the God-Generals--at least for a little while.

But Luke couldn't let his hopes up too high--he still had to get out of the cathedral first. Dogging the Oracle Knight's footsteps as he led through winding corridors and up and down various flights of stairs, Luke tried to gauge the situation. He could try to slip or run away from the lone guard, but he didn't know where in the cathedral he was, and wandering around was dangerous.

There was no way Luke could attempt to outdo the Oracle Knight in combat, at least not right now--once upon a time Luke could have easily handled up to three Oracle Knights on his own, although he was sure to garner a few scratches before the battle ended. But now, weak from physical abuse and starvation, a stealthy escape was Luke's only option, and that alone had enough obstacles to count for a metaphorical mine field.

_Dammit, _Luke thought, bridging on the edge of panic, _I've never been good at getting out of the inner wings of the cathedral ... I usually had to ask one of the Order members of the church to help me out--_he stopped.

That's right--Order members that were in the church only, not the Oracle Knights, often helped the lost visitor get out of the confusing inner wings of the cathedral. If only he could get away from the Oracle Knight ...

But the Oracle Knight had suddenly stopped at a set of double doors, and Luke knew they had arrived at Dist's fomicry laboratory. The knight knocked on the door a few times before opening the doors themselves, half-dragging Luke inside.

"About time," Dist snapped, seated on his floating chair, looking up from a fon machine. The Oracle Knight that had brought Luke bowed and left, the door closing with a frightening finality.

Dist strode across the huge lab, looking Luke over. It bothered him a lot, the way the God-General examined him as if he were considering purchasing an object at a market. Luke grimaced; that's what he was from the beginning, an object that couldn't even fulfill the purpose given it, much less any of his own--if he had even found one.

"Clean enough," Dist murmured after a time, then with a shrug, "I always sterilize my equipment anyway every so often. Come."

Luke followed, forcing himself to put one foot before the other, his footsteps staggering compared to the brisk clicking of Dist's feet on the tiled floor.

"I've worked with a few living replicas before," Dist said airily with a wave of his hand, "but none were perfect isofons, or any with nearly complete abilities of the original. I wished for a perfect isofon to work with, but I didn't expect to get one, much less one accustomed to memory particles, another area of my research."

Luke wondered why Dist was talking to him about all this--nobody ever had really done that before, especially after finding out he was just a replica. But then he recalled what kind of scientist, no, what kind of person, Dist actually was. He was the sort of scientist who liked to do things his way and report the results of his experiment. He held himself in rather high regard and would gladly yak off anyone's ear about it whether or not they wanted to listen.

Luke got the feeling Dist had led a lonely life and would be glad for anyone, anything, to listen to what he had to say about things.

Yet any sympathy Luke had felt for Dist dried up in an instant when Dist stopped at a huge fomicry machine, not unlike the one in Choral Castle. The skinny God-General busied himself at the machine's terminal as he spoke.

"I hadn't any time to really examine you at Choral Castle--time had been short then, and I got to only open your synchronized fon slots, to merely skim the surface on the research of perfect isofons and memory particles."

"Memory particles?" Luke asked slowly, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

Dist arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, memory particles, fragments of the planet's memory, the energy source of the world--memory particles are highly impressionable things that make the storage of memories possible. Our very own brains are made up of memory particles."

Luke knit his brows together as he tried to wrap his head around everything Dist said--once he got going, the God-General sounded like he could go on and on for hours on end without once getting tired. Luke had met few people this passionate about anything.

"Anyway," Dist continued, "creating a perfect isofon isn't necessary for my goal, but it certainly is a treat. I'm more concerned with how the body uses memory particles and how replicas are affected by an assortment of situations involving them."

Questions erupted in Luke's mind--creating more replicas? How they're affected by memory particles? What was Dist trying to do, anyway?

Dist finished up typing at the keyboards and keypads on the terminal--the computers bleeped, a possible confirmation of the success of Dist's encoding of his commands. The entire concept wasn't so different than operating a passage ring, at a basic level, at least.

Dist pointed to the platform of the machine, and Luke knew he was meant to lie down on it, flat on his back just as he had at Choral Castle. At first Luke hadn't moved, but at the sound of Dist impatiently tapping his foot on the floor, he remembered Arietta's ligers, and promptly hoisted himself onto the platform.

Lime green holographic lights appeared around the platform, and Luke found he couldn't move of his own volition. Some strange aspect of this kind of fontech, he supposed, but the prospect of not being able to move terrified him to the core.

"Actually ..." Dist mused, "creating a perfect isofon might in fact be necessary for my goal. Tell me, how did it feel to have your synchronized fon slots opened?"

It took Luke a few moments to realize that Dist was in fact addressing him, asking him for a reply. It ... scared him. He was so used to Sync's cruel treatment by now, something like this was totally off the wall. Nonetheless he worked his rusty voice.

"Everything ... hurt. My eyes, head, hands, feet, and all my insides ... It all hurt, almost throbbing for a time before it ... went away."

"Ah," Dist said, a wide smile on his face, "you had fon slots when you were created, of course ... and although your fon slots were capable of channeling fonons at a limited ability, the latent potential of your fon slots had been locked, so to speak. Not exactly fon slots within fon slots, but merely deeper fon slots, certainly an aid when you work with the Seventh Fonon.

"Like the planet, everything, living and nonliving, has ten major fon slots--in humans, they are the eyes, the vocal chords, the ears, the hands, the feet, the brain, the lungs, the heart, the intestines, and the stomach. Those outside are external fon slots and those inside are internal fon slots. I'm surprised you could fight off Arietta right after having your synchronized fon slots opened.

"Opposite of a fon slot seal, which imitates the intense pressure of the planet's core to close off fon slots, what we did was forcibly open your synchronized fon slots--due to the deepness of your fon slots, this allowed Asch to synchronize his fon slots with yours--you of course being perfect isofons--and establish a mental connection."

Dist's eyes seemed to be twinkling as he voiced his thoughts aloud. He began to type rapidly on the computer terminal, and suddenly Luke was afraid of whatever it was Dist was ordering the fontech to do.

"But what with you two being like you are--the original stubborn as a mule and the replica meek as a mouse--there was no way you'd have done what you should and made use of the opportunity to learn more about yourselves as perfect isofons. Though the technicalities certainly would have escaped you, there are unlimited possibilities you could have made use of with that handy connection. But the one I'm most interested in ... is the possibility of sharing memories through that connection, through your synchronized fon slots."

Sharing memories? When Asch had mentally contacted him before, his original had dominion over every aspect of his body--from seeing through his eyes, projecting voices in his head, to controlling his entire body. In fact, the only part of himself Luke could control when Asch imposed on him was his voice, what he said, and perhaps his facial expression.

But, what did sharing memories have to do with ... ?

"Yes, that little connection of yours," Dist said as the fon machine began to make a whirring noise that made Luke extremely uneasy, "is made primarily by Seventh Fonons, and also memory particles, to allow the transfer of voices and even mental commands."

Luke made a face form where he lay on the platform of the fon machine. Dist _knew _about the times Asch had controlled his body?

There was a whitish glow in a fonic generator--or was it a reservoir?--beside the main mechanical complex that was the fomicry machine. Luke, through his fon slots, felt the vibrations of the light in the generator-reservoir. It was ... similar to a fonon frequency but not quite the same. In fact, if he had to, he'd describe it as reminiscent to the Seventh Fonon but with an oddly foreign quality about it ...

He remembered that same sensation when he was around one of the planetary fon slots, the Sephiroth. It hit him quite suddenly--the generator-reservoir was glowing with memory particles. Luke's eyes darted from the generator-reservoir to the pipes, cables, and wires connecting it to the fomicry machine he was currently attached to, the poison-green orbs going inexorably wide.

Dist was commanding the machines to funnel memory particles into Luke, or perhaps his fon slots, synchronized or not.

Dist seemed particularly excited about this new development, chuckling in a rather high-pitched voice that should not have belonged to a man his age, but then again, it was _Dist. _

"Yes, most interested in the exchange of memories over that connection. He was wrong, he said it couldn't be done, that it was just a replica, but if I succeed in creating a perfect isofon--and if the exchange of memories is possible--yes, I know she's long dead now, but still, her memory particles must have returned the core, just as her fonons returned to the fon belt in aggregation--"

Dist was talking entirely to himself now, not paying one whit of attention to Luke or the frighteningly ominous white glow that was currently in transit from generator-reservoir to the main fomicry machine. Luke wrenched at his arms, trying to break free of his invisible binds, but it seemed like he was magnetized or something to the platform; he couldn't move at all.

The white glow condensed in the center of the dome above the platform, gaining in luminescence as more and more of the glow manifested there, rather like Sixth Fonons but a significantly less danger of damaging or destroying the retinas if they were exposed to such a great amount.

Luke could not tear his eyes away from the glow which now to him gained a malicious demeanor, the way the particles coalesced, came apart, swirled in a bit of an eccentric orbit before flying right back into the thick of things again. He vividly recalled a passage in the fonology book Tear gave him about memory particles and why they appeared so restless:

_Originating in the planet's core, memory particles had much pent-up energy from being confined in the intense pressure inside the core and being bounced around other memory particles constantly before being shot out of the core via one of the planet's ten major fon slots._

Pent-up potential and then kinetic energy--meaning once unleashed, the particles would obey the established laws of physics, particularly the one describing the law of inertia, that objects at rest tended to stay at rest, and objects in motion tended to stay in motion until impeded by some outside force.

Luke very much doubted any force would be sufficient to stop this onslaught of memory particles.

Then he felt--and heard--a sort of gravitation, that the memory particles were being pulled toward him, perhaps by his fon slots, or perchance it was actually Luke being pulled toward the mass of memory particles, it was hard to tell.

Soon his entire field of vision was taken up and obscured by the particles so that all Luke saw was this glowing whiteness, nothing more, nothing less, and yet it seemed to him that he was able to see everything and nothing, blinded by the sheer whiteness and yet wasn't he seeing the expanse of everything, at least in terms of wavelengths that absorbed and reflected light? White was the sum of all the wavelengths that produce the phenomenon known as light.

But it was reflected back outward, yes, not absorbed. Absorption of all wavelengths was the job of the color black, which was defined as no color, really, but how could it absorb all color and be defined as the absence of color?

Oh, wait, it was the absence of light, not color. But wasn't color produced by wavelengths that effectuated what we call light?

His mind was running in circles, now, just like how the planet Auldrant ran circles around its parent star Rem, and how it in turn was caught up in circles around the central point of the galaxy that all stars of this galaxy and solar systems were caught up in, sometimes not even going in complete circles but having elliptic orbits, or was that ecliptic? No, he was pretty sure it was elliptic.

Many things in space ran in incomplete circles and misshapen orbits called elliptic ones, but it was the phenomena closer to home that ran in the most complete, most circular circles possible around a field of gravitation that gave it said orbit. Like the Planet Storm. Yes, the stream of constantly flowing memory particles ran in near completely circular circles around the surface of the planet, taking them into the core and shooting them out the Sephiroth--

Luke's mind jolted at the word Sephiroth, and suddenly all feeling returned to him--he jumped in place, sort of similar to how one would feel after abruptly waking from a half-sleep in which one dreamed he or she were falling and hit the ground as they suddenly woke up, as if they had been forcibly returned to their earthly bodies after an astral experience.

Luke blinked repeatedly, focusing on the feel of the smooth metal he was lying on, his expression changing like wildfire so as not to forget what it felt like to be moving, to be grounded on solid earth, on Auldrant, and not whisked planets or solar systems or even galaxies away from the familiar and home.

He tried to gain his bearings, to think what it was that was throwing his mind off so severely--then it came to him, why he was losing a firm hold on anything, mental, physical, metaphysical or even metaphorically.

It was that damnable white glow. Memory particles.

Highly impressionable things, made memory storage possible. And apparently if drenched in them the subject was affected drastically--Luke feared for whatever scant amounts of sanity and other mental well being that survived Sync's cruel captivity.

How were the particles messing with his mind? Obviously his brain couldn't cope with the sudden torrent of memory particles all at once--entered through the external fon slots, through innumerable and unknowable passageways to his internal fon slots, his entire body, leading ultimately to the brain, the most powerful and important fon slot of them all, external or internal.

So many memory particles--so many memories, and his brain was simply overloaded. It was all Luke could to hold onto these thoughts alone, and focus on the prospect of being--of just simply _being._

Before long he began to remember. By all accounts he shouldn't have been remembering these--things--because in actuality he never remembered them happening at all.

Images flashed in his mind's eye--or was it his actual eye?--people and places he'd never had any memory of previously, and when he saw these people, places, and events, he'd felt their emotions--whatever the original bearer of said memories felt at the time, whether he was supposed to or not.

For the first time in his pathetically short existence he knew what it felt like to be terminally ill, to be writhing in blindingly painful throes during a limb amputation as he screamed for it to just _stop, _to be permanently paralyzed, to fall to his death off the port bow of a landship during battle, to be an academic genius, to be an expectant parent and then a parent disappointed in the way his disobedient children behaved.

He also knew what it was like to be wanted. Needed. Loved.

It was too painful to bear all at once--and then, a single particle touched upon his mind.

Purple. The color purple, so dark it was almost black, expanded to cover his entire field of view, mentally or physically. He thought he could feel it, he could breathe it, and it was excruciatingly painful, burning ruthlessly as it tore him apart inside and out--

_'The miasma originated as a form of decay--it specializes in breaking down organic matter exponentially--'_

_'Trapped in a hellhole of miasma--we'll never survive ...'_

_'The poison works slowly. It'll appear as though you died of an illness.'_

_'If this continues, the population will be reduced by eighty percent by the next generation.'_

_'It hurts ... it hurts ... help me ...'_

No. It just couldn't be. These particles now, they were--they were--

_'We delved too greedily and too deep. Akzeriuth is now completely enveloped in the miasma.'_

It hurt so much--it hurt so badly--all Luke wanted was to cease to be right then and there. Was this--burning and being torn apart from the inside out--what the people of Akzeriuth had suffered through before being brutally eliminated from existence?

Pain, pain, pain, nothing but pain. Then a great flash of golden light, the beginnings of tremors of the earth, then--

Nothing.

The memories of Akzeriuth--the memory particles of its people--were swept up into the Planet Storm and taken into the core again, shot out of the Sephiroth to be freely flowing about Auldrant, ready for another incarnation.

Now they were here--here, in his body, in his fon slots, in his mind.

He was here now, and the demons were coming for him.

Already he could feel their clammy, dead claws grasping his arms and legs, to pull him down, down, down to the abysmal poisonous hell they'd been unrightfully cast in, any survivors doomed to drown in the contaminated liquified crust.

Their venomous claws made their way up his arms, over his shoulders, to his throat, tiny innumerable and excruciatingly painful pricks and prods on his skin. In the wake of the claws the skin inflamed terribly, from faint pink to a brighter flush to the obscene redness of blood.

The claws gripped his throat now, trying to throttle the breath out of him, to take him down into their poisonous hell.

Why wasn't anyone helping him? He was drowning alive, suffocating, his lungs struggling to inflate, the organs seeming to be pressed down so the air would be forced out, unable to take in any more.

His eyes were half open and his lips parted.

_Help_

A flash of whitish gold light before complete darkness overtook him.

----------

Oh, dear. He hadn't meant for this to happen. He'd been so distracted with his own thoughts that he hadn't kept a proper eye on the replica when it was taking in the considerable volume of memory particles transported from the reservoir to the fomicry machine.

Dist's hands flew over the keyboards, and the light of the memory particles gradually faded away as the reservoir stopped turning out more particles. He switched off the fomicry machine while he was at it; the lime green circles that restrained the replica faded, too.

Dist leaned over the platform, adjusting his glasses involuntarily. The replica ... just lay there. Didn't move at all or showed any obvious signs of life. Dist's heart sank. He inwardly hoped he hadn't accidentally killed the thing--but were memory particles so deadly, then? If so, that threw his entire hypothesis out the window--

Wait.

Upon closer inspection (about an inch or two away close) there was a faint rising and falling of the chest. The replica was alive, then, it _was _breathing, after all--but what caught Dist's attention was the eyes.

Half open, the replica's eyes looked ... dead. The green irises were so dark they were almost black, as if whatever consciousness had been there fled long ago, leaving an empty shell, an empty vessel.

But it was still alive. And--he put a finger to the awkwardly bent neck--yes, it had a pulse. Heart beating, lungs breathing--it was definitely alive.

Just unconscious.

A small frown pulled at his lips. Perfect. Just what he needed, his subject to be in a near comatose state just when the research was beginning! Well, he'd heard the replica speaking half-coherently about multiple things--being a father, falling to his death in the Battle of Chesedonia--that haven't happened to him before, and these being memory particles--yes, the transfer of _memory_ was quite possible, no, probable.

What he wanted to know was whether the transfer of a _personality_ to a replica, a perfect isofon, was possible.

Lying on the platform, the unconscious replica seemed to reflexively twitch a bit--and Dist could have sworn it uttered one very faint word.

_Help._

_-----------------------_

Hikaru: No, Luke's not dead ... he'll be back next chapter. The crossover's fast approaching, by the way--it'll happen chapter after next.


	5. The Seventh Sentience

Hikaru: I apologize for the wait. Things have gotten just a little hectic outside the Net.

------------

Light.

White light, with perhaps a tint of bronze gold. He felt oddly ... weightless. He seemed to ... float, almost, as if in water, but his immediate environs and then some didn't exactly feel like water. He felt almost loose, in a sense. Relaxed. Like he'd had a very long, comfortable nap that forever cured him of any and all exhaustion and fatigue.

He was curled up in this strange, comfortable place. If he had to compare it to something, well, tangible, then it most certainly felt like he was a dozing cat curled up on a luxuriously soft carpet in a patch of sunlight.

He never wanted to leave this place.

It made him feel ... warm, safe. What were such places called?

Sanctuaries.

But a coldness threatened to encroach upon this sancutary. Like demonified hands they inched closer, contaminating the sanctuary boundaries. The coldness loomed ever closer, like an imminent tide incoming after a long hiatus.

Suddenly frightened of the frigidity, Luke tried to move, to get away--but he could not move.

The coldness crept closer--Luke attempted movement once again--but all he could manage was to open his eyes, and even then he couldn't open them fully, struggling to keep his eyelids from closing down again.

The warm sanctuary was a whitish gold, the coldness a viciously dark purple. The purple frigidity competely surrounded Luke, the circle of it steadily coming closer, eating up the warmth and gold light, coming closer to Luke.

He dimly recalled a sitatuation like this in his physical state--what had he done? Unable to move, unable to do anything, he used the only thing left to him: his voice.

_Help_

Was that his voice? Was that _his _voice? It was so hoarse, so weak, so--pathetic. None would hear, much less answer, such a minute plea. Yet to his surprise, the advancing darkness and coldness was swept back by a wave of gold light, and he was enveloped in the warmth of safety.

It was almost like a hug, really. Forcibly Luke was painfully reminded of his mother's hugs.

A voice resounded deep within his mind.

_Come now, my child_

If Duke Fabre had been a more ... affectionate father, his way of comforting a frightened child might have been similar to this. If Luke had been in an actual physical state instead of existing in an astral experience of only aggregate fonons, he would have given the owner of this voice a hug. But it seemed the mysterious owner of the voice had the same mind frame, to an extent.

_Child, you know me_

Luke knit his brow together. Aggregate memory particles and Seventh Fonons--

Quite suddenly it came to him.

_Lorelei?_

_It seems this ... problem has gotten beyond our control_

_How?_

_Well ... I am trapped, you are trapped, and my other fragment can't handle everything at once_

_Trapped--that's right, I am trapped--Lorelei, it hurts--help?_

_I won't let you die, child_

_I-I can't die yet--it hurts-help_

_You will __**not**_ _die_

_Won't--die ... ?_

_**You will not die**_


	6. Hyperresonance

Hikaru: Sorry for the short chapter last time! It just seemed the appropriate place to cut it. 

------

"--won't die if I can help it!"

It took him a while to realize it, but Luke was still alive. Alive, breathing. No longer was he having an astral experience or conversing with imaginary voices. Then he remembered with whom he had supposedly been speaking. 

Lorelei.

Lorelei had been speaking to him then. It said something--something to the effect of being trapped somewhere ... and not allowing Luke to die? Yes, something like that.

If only Luke could move. He felt frozen to whatever surface he was lying upon--he recalled what had transpired before. He forced his eyes to open halfway, and he saw the cold metal surface of the fomicry machine he'd been lying on for Dist's little experiment.

He was still in Dist's fomicry lab in Daath.

"It's been three days! Even a beheaded cockroach would have keeled over by now! Besides, what use is he to you? Couldn't even talk before he croaked, huh?"

Luke stirred, feeling coming back to his limbs, then fingers and toes. The very first voice he heard belonged to Dist, but the second voice belonged to a woman. A very strong, rugged woman that probably had her fair share of hardships and was a no-nonsense type. 

And Dist to her seemed like a very nonsense type of person.

Luke strained to look, and he saw blurry shapes, what he supposed to be Dist and his visitor. When his vision focused at last, he saw the woman who had been arguing ferociously with Dist--she wore the Daathic garb of a God-General--she was tall, of a strong build, not too bulky, not too thin--Luke was quite sure there were curves beneath the square mantle.

She had shoulder-length lavender hair that darkened into violet near the ends. A sword--a katana ... did she fight in the Sigmund style?--was belted to her waist and an eyepatch concealed her right eye.

Clearly this woman wasn't one to be trifled with.

"Look," Dist said in an irritated, exasperated tone, "It's still alive in body, I just need to retrieve its consciousness! Clearly it had something to do with memory particles, some sort of trauma, it looks like--"

"Then it probaby fell comatose. Poor thing."

"--if you'll allow me to finish, Cantabile--"

"That'll take too long. You can't even properly interrogate anything--it's too late."

Dist arched an eyebrow.

"Too late? What do you mean by that, woman?"

The woman, Cantabile, examined her fingernails with disinterest.

"One of the Belkend researchers came to us. What was his name? Spinoza. Unlike you, I can actually follow orders ... I interrogated him, and we've got a nice little ambush lying in wait for our adversaries."

"Ambush?" Dist asked. His mout was set in a grim line. "Where?"

"Sheridan--apparently they've made the Tartarus into a device to stop the core's vibration, thus stopping the planet's crust from liquefying. Obviously, there's a ... problem with that."

Dist made a disgusted noise, folding his arms across his chest.

"Ever so loyal, are we? Steadfast, indeed." His voice was barely audible to Luke.

Cantabile merely chuckled.

"I say, it makes quite the charming title for a God-General, wouldn't you agree?"

"Hmm ... 'Cantabile the Steadfast.' Well, I suppose it's a more fitting title than 'Arietta the Wild' ... Her! Wild? Quite the contrary. Ever since she met Ion, she's as docile as a kitten."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the God-Generals. Meanwhile, Luke's brain was still reeling--there was a _seventh _God-General? Cantabile the Steadfast? Why on Auldrant hadn't anyone said anything about this before now?

Granted, this particular God-General hadn't done anything so far, but now the burden of taking on Van and his underlings seemed that much heavier.

Tear had said before--the Six God-Generals, not seven. Legretta the Quick, Sync the Tempest, Arietta the Wild, Largo the Black Lion, Dist the Reaper, and Asch the Bloody. 

Where in the world had she come from? Hod, his mind supplied. She wore a katana at her side--only people who lived in Hod knew about, much less fought, in that particular style.

Was she a new God-General, or only hidden in obscurity before now? Luke wouldn't put it past Van to have a secret dagger or two up his sleeve.

"Where's Sync?" Dist asked, breaking the awkward silence. "It's unusual for him to make himself so ... scarce."

Cantabile replied without hesitation.

"He volunteered for a mission to impede our adversaries."

"Volunteered?" Dist screeched. "For what, pray tell?"

A nasty smile spread across Cantabile's lips.

"To stop our enemies--in the core."

A deathly silence swept over the vast laboratory. Luke tried to move a bit more, and succeeded a little--feeling returned to his fingers and toes. Now he just had to move them all, one by one, slowly regaining control of his long-dormant body.

Three whole days? Why on Auldrant was he out for so long?

Dist's voice was a somber hiss.

"A suicide mission, then."

Suicide mission? Planet's core? That was--the others were in danger! Luke couldn't afford to be lying around--he'd almost gotten them killed once, he can't do nothing when he could very well save them--

If only he could _move._

Quite suddenly there was a rush of Seventh Fonons, and Luke's whole body, being starved of Seventh Fonons, readily lapped them up. Luke didn't have any formal training with real healing artes, but he knew how to heal to an extent--Guardian Field was proof of that.

Some of the fatigue washed away under the coat of Seventh Fonons, and Luke stirred, groaning quietly at his sore muscles.

His enemies who would hurt the people he'd come to care about--even if he hadn't admitted or even realized it--were standing before him. He need only act on it--stop them before they could harm anyone--not Guy, not Ion, not Anise, not Tear ... hell, not even Jade!

Dist made a noise of question.

" ... what's this? An influx of ... Seventh Fonons? From _where? _My fon machinery should be keeping Seventh Fonons out of this cathedral's wing!"

"Dist!" Cantabile warned, but the scientist paid no heed.

With a vigor Luke thought lost long ago, he leapt to his feet, swinging a punch at Dist. Dist belatedly moved, and his glasses were knocked askew, clattering across the floor.

A moment later an arm of the eyeglasses distintegrated with a flash of golden light.

"Dist! What the hell is going on! He's _glowing!"_

Cantabile drew her katana, and Dist scurried backward, but without his glasses he couldn't see so well. He tripped backward just as Luke went for him again.

"It's the Seventh Fonons!" Dist screeched, jumping to his feet and clumsily dodging more attempts on his life by a half-concious, previously thought comatose replica--the replica's arm grazed by Dist's jacket, and parts of the sleeve simply ceased to exist.

"He's a living hyperresonance!"

"Well, tan my hide and call me a shoopuf."

"A _what?"_

"Look out!" 

Cantabile yanked on Dist's jacket collar, pulling him out of the way. When Luke charged toward her, she glowed with fonons.

"Demon Strike!" she swung her katana, and a bright blue glow accompanied the powerful shockwave that bowled Luke over, knocking down tables and trays. Expensive fontech equipment fell to the floor and shattered, the living hyperresonance disintegrating everything it touched, except, curiously, the floor it stood upon.

Cantabile swung again and Luke threw his arm out in a feeble attempt to block the strike--

Cantabile shouted.

"What the _hell!"_

Half the katana blade ceased to be.

"Don't touch him; it's the hyperresonance!"

Dist and Cantabile backed away a respectful distance while Luke recovered from the stun Cantabile's Demon Strike had given him.

Luke was starting to feel dizzy; he stood in place trying to sort out his bearings. Why was everything so gold and white? Why did his head hurt so terribly? Why hadn't the katana sliced his arm off?

And why ... did he hear voices in his head?

"Sword ... where's my ..." he mumbled incoherently. A curiously foreign phrase floated about in his mind, a name he doubted that was Ancient Ispanian origin. 

"De ... Derris-Kharlan ... ?"

Luke stumbled; he threw out an arm to catch himself upon the tiled floor. A tabletop he bumped into disintegrated.

"He's going to destroy everything if this doesn't stop!" Cantabile shrieked angrily. "How do we stop it!"

Dist pulled out a spare pair of glasses, practically smashing them on his nose.

"Hyperresonance is caused by Seventh Fonon interference. We need to cancel out the Seventh Fonons by projecting its fonon frequency."

"What's the frequency?" Cantabile asked edgily as Luke began to make his clumsy way toward the two God-Generals. In this battle, the difference between life or death was entirely dependent on the replica _not_ touching them. 

A daunting task at the moment.

"The same as Lorelei's!" Dist answered. He paused pensively. "And pi's, now that I think on it ..."

"A bloody sentience?" Cantabile roared, a blood-curdling noise that made Dist recoil. "Do you have any idea how many Seventh Fonons we'll need to do that?"

"Yes I do!" Dist shouted back as the confused and disoriented Luke continued to stumble over and accidentally destroy furniture and precious lab equipment.

"There is no seventh layer of the fon belt," Dist said, "so the Seventh Fonons must come from the Planet Storm and the core--and thereby out of the Sephiroth!"

Cantabile stopped. That's right--Daath was built practically on top of a planetary fon slot. And the hyperresonating replica would actually help them draw the Seventh Fonons they needed, since like fonons attracted.

"I'm a Seventh Fonist." She said suddenly. "Tell me what needs to be done."

Dist led her to a fon machine and started it up. "This fontech was built to take in Seventh Fonons--you take them and project them at the replica!"

Meanwhile Luke couldn't quite understand what was going on--he saw things, things he couldn't quite explain--was this because of Seventh Fonons? They were akin to memory particles, after all ...

But what was this other land he was seeing? It most certainly wasn't Auldrant. The continents were different, the animals, the cities--everything was different. The voices--the voices inside his head now, not Lorelei's--they spoke of a sword, and eternity--the origin of something, or perhaps everything--and a comet ... or was it a planet? that was moving away.

Just what was going on? This was just like when he fell comatose just a short while ago? Was he already dead? Had the influx of Seventh Fonons and the resulting hyperresonance already killed him?

Cantabile uneasily watched as Luke continued to destroy things with hyperresonance and worse, mumble nonsense.

"Send us to ... Der-Derris-Kharlan--the sword--where's my sword--no--don't die--I don't want to die--"

"Done yet?" Cantabile demanded irritably.

"Nearly!" Dist said, and a rapid beeping noise came from the fontech.

The room nearly burst with Seventh Fonons, and Cantabile took pains to properly channel as many of them as she could without accidentally hurting herself or Dist--not that it'd be any real grief if something happened to the Reaper now--and churned them in a steady flow toward the replica falling over its own feet.

With each clumsy step the replica made toward them, Cantabile's heart leapt in her throat and threatened to leap out, but she forced herself to abandon her body's fight or flight response and continued to stream out the Seventh Fonons. Enough fonons to imitate the frequency of a sentience, that was going to take some time.

Time she was not sure they'd have if the replica, the living hyperresonance, refused to sit still.

But after a while, the canceling out of the hyperresonance seemed to be working, for Luke's brilliant radiance faded, gradually, slowly. Soon he looked nothing more than a human driven to weakness and degration, physically and emotionally as he slumped to the floor, burned out.

When she was sure the thing had completely stopped hyperresonating, Cantabile stopped her Seventh fonic artes, heaving for breath. The Seventh Fonon was the most difficult to control, and to have to channel and control it for such a long period of time ... it was a wonder the replica itself wasn't half dead at this point! Or was it already dead?

Dist shut down the fon machine he was working with and rushed to the replica's side. He checked its breathing, checked its pulse.

"Alive." He declared. "But barely. That was some hyperresonance."

"Is he comatose?" Cantabile asked, examining her now debladed katana. She threw it to the floor; like this, it had little use.

Dist shook his head, rummaging in his coat for handcuffs.

"No. Which is why it'll be prudent to restrain him."

Within moments the replica's arms and legs were bound, and more Oracle Knights were summoned to take the thing back to the dungeon.

"Wait." Cantabile said. "Take it somewhere else. A guest room or something."

"As you wish, ma'am." The Oracle soldiers hoisted the unconcious replica over their shoulders, carrying him out of the now decimated laboratory.

"Why a guest room?" Dist asked curiously, preferring idle chitchat to having to look upon his once orderly laboratory. He didn't want to even think of how much Gald it would take to replace all the destroyed equipment--and how many hoops he'd have to jump through to make sure the Order granted him the sum.

"If you wish to pet a dog," Cantabile said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "first you must convince it to eat from your hand."

"Ah," Dist said, eyes glued to the female God-General. Inwardly he doubted the replica would bend to their cause, but Cantabile was renowned for her trickery. In fact, one of the titles considered for her God-General office was Cantabile the Deceptive, but the Order thought it was too negative a title, and sounded ... disloyal besides, thusly her current, more pleasant, title.

Cantabile sighed, walking in the wake of the Oracle troop that just proceeded through the door. Her boots made a strong clacking noise as she moved.

"Have fun here. I must go see the blacksmith about a blade."

With a mischevious smile at Dist, she made her leave.

Dist groaned, hitting his forehead with a palm. This mess was going to take forever just to report, let alone sort through! Well, he supposed he'd better deal with the paperwork first.

People said Daath was a theocracy, but they were wrong--Daath was a beauracracy.

---------

_You will not die._

He landed quite clumsily on the somewhat steep hill, falling flat on his face beside a stone monument. He groaned, getting to his feet, dizzy from the fall, trying to make heads or tails of what in the nine planes of heaven and hell had happened.

The first thing he noticed was the grand city of unfathomable size beyond the hill, with a majestic cathedral as its heart. Rising above all around it, the city was in its shadow, or under its wings. It was a truly beautiful sight.

Now, if only he could make sense of where--or possibly when--he was.

He searched for the voice--not that he was particularly hopeful, seeing how the channeling device between them, the sword, was no longer with him. Had he somehow gotten separated from it in the fall?

_... Origin?_

_I apologize for the abruptness_

_Origin, what is going on?_

_Powers collided. A fellow Spirit asked for my help, and that of my scion. And its power collided with mine, bringing you ... here_

_What is "here?" Am I even anywhere near home?_

_No, you are not. Nor are you alone in this world--another was taken with you upon the collision_

_What? Then you mean Kratos was--_

_To get home, you must seek and help the Scion of Lorelei's power--the Light of the Sacred Flame._


	7. Escape from Daath

Hikaru: I apologize for the wait. My family went to the mountains to see relatives for Easter, and then I bought Crisis Core. I know, I know, shame on me, but I've been writing chapters for this story on a daily basis on paper. So there!

When Luke awoke, he expected to be back in the dungeons, after the little stunt he pulled in Dist's fonic laboratory. Yet he woke in a rather--comfy guest room, the kind of room reserved in the visitor's wing of the cathedral, for travelers and pilgrims, that sort.

What was going on? Why did the God-Generals deign to stick in him here instead of the dungeon? Nothing much was making sense during his stay in Daath. First Dist put him through weird experiments, and now instead of being in the dungeon, he was imprisoned in a guest room. Were the God-Generals mocking him?

That certainly seemed to be the case.

For a while Luke just sat on the bed, contemplating all that happened--including the freakish hyperresonance he'd managed to generate just a short while ago. He didn't remember much beyond that, but he did know he tried to take out Dist and Cantabile. Luke didn't think he actually got much besides Dist's glasses and a lot of expensive lab equipment.

He looked around, drinking in the sights of his room--a cabinet full of towels, a roomy, almost luxurious (at least in his eyes now) bathroom that positively shone, a ceiling fan, a small table with chairs, and a window--

A window!

Luke rushed to the window, hope surging in his heart--and shot right back down. He looked out the window. He must be at least three stories high, maybe even more. He was probably in the tower wing of the cathedral--he saw the flight of stairs and the main street leading up to Daath's great place of worship.

He wasn't sky high, though, that much he knew, for he could distinguish one person from another on the streets. They weren't just ants hurriedly going about their colonies.

If he could open the window, he could just climb out, for the cathedral's walls were by no means slick or slippery. Strangely, they seemed nearly built for a short climb down from this height. If one were high enough, one could even walk on the buttresses that supported the tower wing.

He tried opening the window, but it held shut, locked, or perhaps even glued, who could know?

Luke backed up a good distance. The only thing separating him from freedom was that pane of glass in the wall. He began to charge at top speed, aiming his shoulder at the glass--and at the final moment stopped. His nose was almost touching the pane, eyes fixed to the sea of people mind their own business down below, oblivious to Luke's plight.

If he--if he smashed the window, the shards of glass would fall below--thereby hurting the city folk, innocent people who had nothing to do with Luke's struggle. Broken glass was dangerous--from this height it could be deadly, depending where it hit a person.

Luke sighed, collapsing on a chair. No escape. Once again he was the God-Generals'--Van's--caged little bird. Lorelei had said it would not let him die, if he had not been hallucinating. But sometimes Luke wondered if his dying would be better. Death, they say, was the best kind of suffering.

Everything else you live to remember.

Sync, among other members of the God-Generals, had gone to Sheridan to prepare the ambush. Dist was filing hoards of paperwork prior to filling out the necessary paperwork to request the appropriate funds to rebuild his lab.

That left Cantabile to guard their little bird. Not that it would take much to guard the replica; there were already Oracle Knights stationed up there anyway. While the replica's new cell may not be the highest room of the tallest tower, she didn't think it would be stupid enough to try anything.

Cantabile loitered in the chapel, examining the stained glass windows that depicted Yulia, her disciples, Lorelei, and their deeds of recording the Score and the creation of the Seven Fonstones that held it. Soon, Van and the God-Generals would erase Yulia's Score from the face of the earth. The Score for which so much had been pointlessly sacrificed. The Score that promised prosperity for all yet brought only death.

But Cantabile was worried for Van. The man had changed so drastically from the person she had grown up with on Hod. It was almost scary, how he talked scornfully of the people of this "mad world" and the Score, plotting the destruction of those unworthy to live in his new world free of the Score.

Sometimes Cantabile wondered if it would have been better if Van had died in Hod's collapse. She had always thought of death as the best kind of suffering.

Everything else ... you live to remember.

"Excuse me," a young man's voice said behind her, "do you know where the library is?"

Cantabile turned to address the speaker.

"Just to your left."

She studied the young man. Well, he certainly was a handsome one! She estimated his height to be five seven; he was of good build, had that youthful male slenderness. He couldn't have been older than seventeen or eighteen. He had eyes colored like red wine, and his flyaway brown hair had streaks of red where the sun shone on it.

He was also wearing the most peculiar clothing. A red jacket with innumerable white buttons, gloves and boots to match, black pants, brown belts and suspenders. Not many people could pull off that look without looking like some sort of weirdo. He also had two swords belted to waist, sheathed in red scabbards.

Cantabile raised a brow. Who fought with two swords? Or perhaps the second was simply a spare, nothing more.

"And the traveler's quarters, if I may?" the young man asked. My, Cantabile thought, this boy certainly had a way with words!

"The door to to your right, up the stairs." She supplied. She stared at the swords the young man wore, still curiously. "If I may," she asked, "what style do you fight?"

The teenager glanced at one of his swords, a hand resting on one hilt.

"Oh, these?" He tapped the hilt of a sword fondly. "No particular formal style. It's a style of my own."

"Interesting," Cantabile murmured, a hand cupping her chin in thought.

She and the young man parted ways--he went to the library first. For a split second Cantabile wished she had asked the lad's name, but she shrugged it off. She had more important things about which to worry. Like how she was to convince the replica to change its allegiance.

Torture certainly wouldn't work here, Sync had already tried it numerous times without results. The damn thing wouldn't even talk, and ever since then the replica had repeatedly claimed it would not betray the people it cared about, and followed through.

If worst came to worst, Cantabile supposed she could just kill it. But that hyperresonance had been the most powerful thing she had seen, and she had seen it twice--first from afar, the fall of Akzeriuth, and then close up in Dist's lab. Such power--if Van had such a weapon on his side, then their--no, his--goal would be accomplished that much faster.

The only problem was convincing it how.

Luke was more than a little edgy. He was a downright nervous wreck, jumping at unseen enemies, never knowing rest. Yet when a series of knocks resounded on his door, Luke made no noise, silent as the grave, his voice abandoned him.

"Hey replica!" A gruff Oracle soldier called. "We're moving out in a short while--and God-General Cantabile says you're to come with us!"

Luke angrily kicked the door, startling the Oracle Knights on the other side of the door.

"Yeah? Well you can tell Cantabile to shove it!" Though Luke knew he was in no position whatsoever to be giving his enemies lip.

Noises beyond the door, crashes and the steel of swords clanging against metal armor. Luke scurried backward, scared that the guards would come inside--

The door slammed open, and in walked a young man about Luke's projected age. He had two swords in hand, one his, the other belonging to Luke, scabbard and all.

"Hey!" Luke began, and belatedly caught his sword as the other swordsman tossed it to him.

"Are you the 'Light of the Sacred Flame' ?"

Luke blinked, slipped his scabbard onto his belt. Ancient Ispanian again--yet it seemed the other young man did not know the common tongue counterpart of the name.

"Er, yeah ... the name's Luke, Luke fon Fabre. Who're you?"

The boy wearing red stuck his head out the door, looking up and down the halls. He walked back in, donning a broad grin.

"Nice to meet you, Luke. I'm Lloyd Irving."

There was more noise from downstairs--it sounded like more guards coming up, and in no short supply. Lloyd rummaged in his pocket, tossing Luke a few gels. Drawing his other blade, Lloyd said,

"C'mon, we gotta get out of here! Let's go!"

And the lad was out of the room before Luke could so much shake a fist, or ask what in the name of Lorelei was going on. But after being trapped in Daath for an indeterminate period of time, Luke was not about to let this chance go to waste.

He followed Lloyd down the hall, catching up quickly. The gels Lloyd had given him earlier helped extraordinarily--his strength was returning at a fast pace. Down the flights of stairs of Daath's cathedral, they encountered a number of Oracle Knights. They drew steel, prepared to stay their course.

"The prisoner's escaping!"

Luke turned his blade on an Oracle Knight, one of the three impeding the hallway. He was nervous, and understandably so--it had been a long time since he had been doing any real fighting, and this was a life or death situation. And their battleground wasn't exactly ideal--a life or death battle in the narrow halls of the cathedral where it was only three people wide.

Nonetheless Luke managed, whether it was the gels he had taken or the fight or flight response, he did not know, he only fought. It seemed to go in slow motion--the knight swinging his sword, the sparks dancing off the steel as it deadlocked with Luke's own blade.

The adrenaline rushed through his blood, and the fonons floating around in ambience were ripe for use. He took in a significant amount of fonons, channeling them through his fon slots, focusing for an attack.

The Sixth Fonons made his blade glow as he swung in a wide arc around him, finishing the move with a stab at the Oracle Knight's midsection. Because it was where armor was linked for mobility, protection was weaker there than everywhere else.

The knight succumbed immediately to the Light Spear Cannon, falling over with a dull thunk on the stone floor. Luke panted to regain his breath, worn out. He was disgusted with himself; how could he be so tired after one battle?

Blue fonons in the form of shock waves tore through another Oracle Knight, an attack Lloyd called Demonic Chaos. Only one enemy remained; Luke charged toward him, sword at the ready--

Lloyd leapt in the air and crashed down on the knight in a blade rondo, the assault reminiscent of a falcon coming down on its prey talons first.

Once all the soldiers were done with, Lloyd and Luke raced through the labyrinth of the cathedral, avoiding unnecessary combat but fighting when their path was barred by Oracle swords.

Lloyd had virtually no trouble at all, possessing infinite stamina and inexhaustible strength as he tore through enemies with powerful strike artes. Luke straggled behind him, applying apple gels to his numerous wounds--the price of being out of practice during battle.

Luke kneeled as he rubbed an apple gel on his right arm, wincing as it stung. Lloyd was keeping watch around the corridor, swords drawn. Oracle Knights' bodies littered the halls behind them, an acolyte's screaming echoed down the corridor.

Lloyd peeked around the corner, throwing his back to the wall almost immediately.

"Almost done?" Lloyd asked, a little tensely. Luke could understand--Lloyd had risked his life and more breaking into the cathedral, and yet he was held back by a weakened fighter.

Luke nodded when he finished, picking up his short sword. Lloyd dashed down the corridor, Luke trailing in his wake. They wound their way down flights of stairs, darting through halls and doors. Luke wasn't sure how long he could keep up--his lungs were heaving, his legs were burning, and his arms were noodles as he half dragged his sword at his side. He was dizzy, too, after so much physical exertion after such a captivity.

At the elapse of a half hour, they emerged into the cathedral's entrance hall. Lloyd peered out the door and ducked his head when a few cantors walked by.

"It's practically empty," Lloyd remarked, sounding surprised.

"What with all those knights we took out," Luke said, more to himself than Lloyd, "I don't think they got word this far down yet."

"Then let's go." Lloyd sheathed his swords, Luke following suit for there were only church folk and a scant few Oracle Knights who had not gotten word of the replica's escape.

Lloyd walked out first. Luke followed his leisurely pace uneasily, uncomfortable about walking around in the open without his sword in hand. When they passed the library door, Luke yelped, his face draining of color.

"Luke?" Lloyd asked, quirking a brow. Luke had frozen where he stood, slack-jawed. He raised a trembling finger to point out the lone Oracle Knight standing on the stair landing that led into the chapel--a lone woman wearing the garb of a God-General.

"So?" Lloyd turned back to Luke, not quite understanding.

"Why didn't you tell me there was a bloody God-General down here?!" Luke demanded with a sultry hiss, on the verge of panic, remembering quite vividly his encounter with Cantabile in Dist's lab.

Lloyd merely shrugged. "So? She's not looking. Let's go." He grabbed Luke by the wrist and half-dragged him out of the cathedral.

Once they were outside, Luke had wanted to bolt, but Lloyd stopped him by the tailcoat. If they were seen running from the cathedral, that was as good as painting a large target sign on their backs.

So reluctantly Luke adopted Lloyd's easygoing pace as they blended into the throngs of Daathic city folk, approaching Daath's city limit at a painfully slow walk. Maybe Luke was so edgy because the cathedral loomed behind him, that he walked in its all encompassing shadow. He had escaped now, but the cathedral was ever at his back, as if to remind him it was still there.

Night fell, and they had gotten no farther than Fourth Monument Hill when they made their camp. Luke stared in the dark of night by the campfire, sword hand never far from the hilt. By now the Oracle Knights must've gotten to Cantabile with news of the prison break.

He may have gotten out of the cathedral, but he was still on the Padamiya continent.

Daath's continent.

Lloyd, meanwhile, was sitting beside the fire, reading a thick leather bound volume. He read silently, the only noise he ever made that of page turning.

Deeming the camp safe from ambush at the moment, Luke turned to Lloyd, eyeing him as the other merely turned another page, deeply absorbed in what he read.

"Who are you?" Luke asked, eyes narrow. Lloyd glanced up, brow furrowed, as if perplexed. "I mean," Luke started over, "where did you come from? How did you know where to find me? Why did you rescue me?"

Lloyd heaved a sigh, obviously frustrated. He clearly wanted to answer none of those questions.

"I'm ... from the country." he said after a pause. "I was visiting the cathedral when I overheard some knights talking about you. And as for breaking you out," his mouth spread into a wide grin, "Dwarven Vow # 4: Never abandon someone in need!"

Luke wondered what the hell were "dwarven vows," but he was tired, and it would not do to fall back into enemy hands due to lack of sleep. He curled up by the fire and fell asleep, more easily than he had anticipated.

Lloyd, however kept reading well into the night.


	8. To Sheridan

Hikaru: I apologize for the long wait. I already have the next six or seven chapters written down on paper, but it's typing them that's a bitch D:

--

They woke at first light, Luke getting up shortly after Lloyd did. The twin blader had already cleaned up their little campsite, covering up the remains of the fire and everything. It was not on the main road, so it was doubtful anyone would find the remains anyway, but these were the Oracle Knights and therefore not to be underestimated.

Luke gathered his possessions--which did not amount to much--and turned just in time to catch a bundle Lloyd tossed to him. Unraveling the worn cloth revealed several pieces of dried jerky dusted with mild spices. Luke tried not to bolt it all down at once, but it was the most delicious meal he had in a long time. Best of all, he didn't hurl it back up.

They traveled the road easily but quickly. Luke couldn't help turning to look over his shoulder, searching for any signs of the enemy on their tracks. The city was now on the edge of the horizon, only slightly obscured by Fourth Monument Hill. The tower was still visible quite clearly, and Luke shuddered every time he looked at it.

Luke always hated walking slowly ever since he could remember. There was no use having legs if you couldn't make proper use of them, he would always say. The maids and Guy had a hell of time trying to keep up with him as he dashed through the manor in an effort to get out of bathing or going to bed.

He kept his steps wide and brisk, trying not to bolt altogether. Lloyd had said that in the city it would have been a stupid move to be seen running from the cathedral, and in retrospect Luke agreed. Yet now that they had room to run, why didn't they?

As he walked, Lloyd unrolled a map of the Padamiyan continent, consulting it. There wasn't much on this continent--the main city, the fields and farms on the outskirts, Aramis Springs, and then the harbor on the Daath Bay. It was pretty much going from Point A to Point B, with little or no places to hide should the enemy overrun them. If they wanted to seal off the port, they were in a perfect position to do so.

"Right," Lloyd said, tracing a finger along the mapped road--the road they were currently traversing. "There's a port northwest of here. But the cantors in the cathedral said no ships sailed. What do you wanna do?"

Luke slowed to a stop, Lloyd belatedly following suit. He rolled up the map, stuffing it back into the travel pack from whence it came, wine red eyes fixed on Luke. Luke could see the harbor from here; it looked like a toy town beyond a few clumps of trees and a small bridge.

"We're going to the harbor. We can't stay on Padamiya."

Luke was worried sick about the Oracle Knights and Cantabile, but as of now they had no other option. Aramis Spring was always an option, true, but he'd be backing into a corner--Teodoro's protection in name was as nothing before the God-Generals' military might. Besides, staying Yulia City would do nothing to help Auldrant, and that's exactly what Luke intended to do--he would help Auldrant and its people or die trying.

The best way to describe the atmosphere of the port was boredom. No ships sailed, so the sailors had nothing much to do beyond sitting around and talking, waiting for Daath's decree that sailing would continue. Numerous ships were berthed in the bay--Luke had never seen a port so crowded.

Still a select few ships were loading and unloading cargo--this struck Luke as a bit strange, until he remembered. Daath and its people were nearly entirely dependent on the supplies that cargo ships brought to and fro. That meant despite the order for no ships to leave the harbor, the cargo vessels would still sail, albeit very carefully.

They stood on a stone dock, looking over the port to see which cargo ships were preparing to head out to sea. Lloyd crunched rather loudly on an apple, almost shamelessly at ease. That irked Luke. Sure, they didn't see any Oracle Knights in the immediate vicinity, but that didn't mean they should let their guard down. Lloyd saw the annoyed look on Luke's face.

"Did you want one?" He asked, pointing to his half-eaten apple, juice dribbling down his fingers.

Luke shook his head, shading his eyes from the sun's rays. There must be some ships that were going to sail--but those were few, and there would be even less willing to take prisoners that escaped the keeping of the God-Generals.

Not that they would tell the captain and crew so, of course, but what if the God-Generals had everyone in port on the lookout for them?

Luke knit his brow, slightly grinding his teeth in annoyance. This escaping business was so damn complicated! He never used to have think about things like this--whenever someone (namely Ion) had gotten kidnapped, all he had to do was slice down anyone that got in the way, grab the rescuee, and high tail it out of enemy territory. Now there was only himself (a very weakened self) and the brunette country boy that had no problem acting like nothing was wrong.

Luke began to approach a cargo vessel christened _Oceanus, _whose crew was nearly finished loading the ship with crates and barrels of supplies. The captain stood by the gangplank, his crew filing onboard.

"Hey," Luke addressed the captain, trying to ignore the way Lloyd was still merrily munching beside him. "Where is this ship headed?"

The captain quirked a brow at the strange young men--at their manner of dress, at the wear and tear of said dress, and the way Lloyd's hair looked like it had just seen a fierce wind storm. After a long pause, he said gruffly, "This here vessel's headed to Sheridan."

Luke's heart jumped in his throat. Sheridan! That's surely where the others would be--they were preparing to go into the planet's core, if they hadn't already. He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt.

"I-is there anyway my friend and I," he gestured to Lloyd, who smiled goofily, bits of apple stuck between his teeth, "could go with you?" Surely, relieved of their main cargo of fon machines, there would be room for two young men.

"Aye, there's room," the captain confirmed. "But this ain't no luxury liner or a passenger ship. I'll take ya, but you'll have to work the entire way."

Luke and Lloyd exchanged glances. The whole way from here to Sheridan? From Padamiya to Meggiora, that was at least a week. Lloyd rummaged in his bag.

"Uhm, what if we paid you?"

The captain stared hard at Lloyd, chewing on the cigar hanging out of his mouth.

"How much you be willin' ter pay?"

They haggled for a time--Lloyd didn't have much available to spend, and Luke had nothing, so it was not wise to squander. In the end they could not afford the exact fare that the captain wanted. Instead they agreed to alternate work days with a gald payment for both swordsmen.

Their work began immediately.

Even though the work was only every other day in the week it took to sail to Sheridan, Luke found it tiring, to say the least--all day the first day he was sweeping, scrubbing, mopping, reorganizing, evening helping cook meals! If it took that much work to maintain a cargo ship, Luke cringed to think what the servants of the manor had to go through. Well, at least the servants had decent hours and wages, and they didn't have to do so much single-handedly.

Luke was up on deck swabbing and scrubbing, back aching, knees sore, clothes soaked with soap water. He was still weak from captivity, but the thought of being reunited with his companions made him work harder with renewed vigor. He also felt a small smudge of pride that his companions did not need to come to his rescue.

It was squashed when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey!"

Lloyd came up to deck, his red jacket tied around his waist. Without the jacket, just his black tank top, he looked smaller than before, even so much as ... a little scrawny. His face was a bit flushed and had patches of dirt--evidence that he had been worked just as hard, if not harder, than Luke.

Luke sat up, stretching out his arms. He, too, was wet and dirty from all the work, which had consisted mostly of cleaning. They couldn't be trusted with all the heavy duty stuff like taking the helm or checking up on the engine, things like that.

Although Luke was weakened from work, it was a good kind of tiredness, that his effort was put into doing something productive.

"So what'cha up to?" Lloyd asked, crouching beside Luke with that silly grin on his face. Completely different than the grim, serious expression he wore in Daath's cathedral.

"Not much," Luke wrung out the cloth he was using to scrub the deck (it might have been white in a previous life) and flung it back into the sudsy bucket from whence it came. "Scrubbing deck, though I don't see the point. The sea would do a much better job of it."

Lloyd laughed, rubbing his nose.

"I just got done sweeping and mopping the hold--y'know how big that is? And they wouldn't gimme help! I know the captain said we had to work, but man ..."

Silence ground on after that. The ocean waves lapped up against the side of the ship. The wind blew through, bringing in more of the sea's salty smell. Though the sun shone, it was cool here at sea, and would only get colder once the sun set.

"Y'know," Lloyd broke the odd, noncommittal silence, "you never did tell me why we're going to Sheridan."

Luke gave him an odd look; Lloyd thought _he _was in a position to ask questions. Well, he'd already broke Luke out of Daath when he was under no obligation. Lloyd had as much right to ask questions as Luke did.

To an extent, anyway.

"In Sheridan ..." Luke stared at the half washed deck, the soap suds shining in the sunlight, "my companions are there. I ..." he clenched his fists tightly. "have to help them."

Lloyd averted his gaze, shifting uncomfortably, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing.

"Just why do these God-Generals have it out for you, anyway?" he asked, frowning. "You didn't look so good back in the cathedral."

Luke laughed mirthlessly, bitterly. He recalled well how he had been losing his mind, on the brink of despair, insanity, and perhaps his life, even.

"They're led by a man named ..." he hesitated. "Named Van Grants. He has a grand plan for Auldrant--he wants to overthrow Yulia's Score, drop the Outer Lands, kill every person in the world and replace them--land and all--with replicas, using fomicry."

Lloyd merely stared, blinking a few times. Clearly he understood little of what Luke just said, if any at all. So Luke started over, remembering that this wasn't exactly common knowledge--first with the Qliphoth and Outer Lands, the miasma, the Sephiroth, and the passage rings, though he didn't quite feel like divulging the details of what caused Akzeriuth's fall. He didn't trust Lloyd that much yet. Or who was to say he just wasn't scared that Lloyd, too, would push him away? Either way, Luke simply wasn't ready. What had passed was in the past, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

Luke explained why Van hated Yulia's prophecy--how it destroyed his homeland of Hod, uprooted everything he knew and loved, and forced him to start anew in Daath. He could have been planning for Auldrant's replication for as long as he worked in Daath--that sort of traumatic event did things to people.

"Okay ... I don't quite get it, but I got it." Lloyd said after the lengthy explanation. His brow was furrowed as he tried to wrap his head around everything at once--he would probably ask Luke again for another explanation at a later date.

Luke quirked a brow skeptically. He opened his mouth to say something of Lloyd's incapacity to understand the gravity of the situation--or of it in general--but clamped his mouth shut. Once upon a time he had been the ignorant one, perhaps he still was. But there was something new here--for once Luke was not the ignorant one, he was the one teaching, guiding, helping ...

It was a good feeling.

"So, we gotta go to Sheridan and help your friends lower the land." Lloyd regurgitated the information Luke fed him, eyes skywards as the sun began to sink toward the blue horizon. "And we do that by commanding passage rings at each Sephiroth so Van can't drop everything at once. Damn," he let out a low whistle, "when I broke into the cathedral, I had no idea this much rode on your shoulders!"

"Yeah ..." Luke's eyes drifted to the ocean, the horizon painted gold by the setting sun. Somewhere on that horizon was a great gaping hole in the ocean where the Rugnican continent used to be. "Neither did I."

"But enough of that," the young noble turned, emerald eyes locked with garnet. "What're you doing when we get there?"

Lloyd grinned again, but this time it was a small one.

"I can't help you out?"

"It'll be dangerous," Luke replied, but by looking at Lloyd he could tell the other swordsman wasn't afraid of the prospected danger ahead. One thing he took comfort in knowing--Lloyd was definitely not a noble that had lived a sheltered life. Something told Luke that Lloyd had been fighting for himself his whole life. This was someone he could count on. Someone who would not be a burden.

"All right, fine," Luke resigned with a sigh. "But until you decide to tell me who you are and where you came from, I can't trust you beyond a battle partner."

Blindly trusting people who had seemed to help him had resulted in Akzeriuth, and never again would Luke allow himself--or innocent others--to fall victim to his own stupidity.

"Why do you want to help, anyway, Lloyd?"

Lloyd stood, his grin wide once more. Strange that for looking so happy, he seemed so ... down.

"Dwarven Vow # 1: Let's all work together for a peaceful world!"

Luke was so moved by the sheer honesty of the statement that he forgot to ask what a "dwarven vow" was.


	9. Ambush

Hikaru: In random news, only two more months 'til I get my braces off! Whoot!

--

Over the short week it took to sail from Daath Bay to Port Sheridan, Luke regained some strength. He wasn't quite up to par with how he was prior to his capture, but it was a significant enough leap to make Luke feel better about himself, if only a little. The only things he needed to work on now were his rusty swordsmanship and his endurance, for battle and for travel. On the days of the week he was not working his fingers to the bone making whatever part of the ship he was cleaning absolutely, fabulously spotless, he spent his time on deck leaning on the railing, enjoying the fresh air and boundless daylight.

On Undineday, they even got a bit of sparring going on deck. Being a twin blader, Lloyd surely had his flaws as a swordsman, but he was clearly more experienced than Luke in the fighting-for-his-life department. Plus Luke had never taken on anyone who used two swords--and used them well. Lloyd's attacks were like a graceful dance and incorporated much leaping, flipping, and jumping--it was almost acrobatic. Luke had trouble blocking off each of the strikes, and while he saw plenty of openings, he acted too late and lost ground, going on the defensive again.

Luke swung his blade in a wide arc, one that Lloyd ducked under, jumping up again, the sunlight glinting off his steel. Luke locked blades with one sword, dropping to a crouch to dodge the oncoming free sword. He bade his time, waiting for the opportune moment--a field of Fourth Fonons was gathering on deck, spurred by his calling.

Lloyd slipped on deck, faltering for a split second--all that Luke needed. He took in the Fourth Fonons, his hand glowing blue--

Lloyd was knocked to the ground from the force of the Frigid Blast, his swords clattering away. Shards of ice fell to the deck, glittering in the sunlight.

"What was that!" Lloyd demanded, rubbing his side where the fonic attack had hit. He sent a glower in Luke's general direction.

Luke volunteered a grin--if he had gone on without using any fonic attacks, Lloyd would have won. But Luke didn't like losing much.

"Fields of fonons," he answered, sheathing his sword. At Lloyd's quizzical tilt of the head, Luke continued, somewhat irritated, "Look, there are lots of fonons floating around available for use in a fight. If you can take them in and use them in an elemental attack, you'll have more of an advantage."

Lloyd gathered his fallen swords, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully.

"Oh, so that's what I was feeling."

Luke's jaw dropped in disbelief. "You're that good of a fighter, and you didn't know about fields of fonons?" Well, Luke hadn't known about them for the grand total of seven years he'd been alive, but still ... someone as skilled as Lloyd not knowing how to use them was a crime! At least it would be in Jade's book.

Lloyd furrowed his brow, a small pout forming on his face. "Yeah, I know about fonons! I just never thought of using them with my swords; I'm no fonist."

Luke had to laugh at that statement combined with the annoyed pout. "I said the same thing. It's useful to know."

Lloyd was a quick learner when it came to hands-on things, unlike when he was learning about the true state of Auldrant's land. That lesson had been a nightmare--Luke had resorted to drawing crude diagrams and practically spelling things out so they'd make sense to Lloyd. But this was different.

Luke was almost beginning to wish he never mentioned fields of fonons--if Lloyd kept up the pace he was going at, he'd be able to thrash Luke with a hand tied behind his back! Well, so long as they both got better at fighting, what use was there in complaining?

That Loreleiday they resumed their sparring match--this time on equal ground in regards to utilizing fields of fonons on the battlefield.

Lloyd emerged victorious from that one.

-

Nothing had been out of the ordinary in Port Sheridan--cogs and gulls, sailors and civilians, no sign whatsoever of Luke's companions or of the ambush the God-Generals had planned. A wave of dread overtook Luke then. What if they were too late? What if the God-Generals already got them? What if ... ?

Luke shook his head violently, forcing all those ugly scenarios out of his head. They just arrived to an ordinary port. That was all. Though, when one's "ordinary" was being chased by Oracle Knights and engaging in races against time ticking toward the world's destruction, a perfectly normal civilian scene was one's "unordinary."

Sheridan was as busy as always when Luke and Lloyd entered its gates. Throngs of city folk went about, many of which were mechanics running their errands for their hobbies or work. The humming and whirring of fon machines could be heard everywhere, and it wasn't necessarily a bad noise, either.

Lloyd whirled around, mouth gaping open as he tried to drink in all the sights at once. That's right, Luke recalled, Lloyd was a country boy. The lad didn't travel much; the farthest he'd gone was to the Daath cathedral just a short while ago. So Luke calmly stood in the plaza, waiting for Lloyd to finish gawking.

He found himself staring at the building before him, the Meeting Room. How long ago it seemed that he was standing with the others in that building, going over their course of action regarding the planet's core! Frowning, Luke strode toward the room, slowly opening the door.

"L-Luke!" A very shocked Ginji leapt from the table so quickly he banged his thighs on the edge. Cringing, rubbing at the injured areas, he rushed to where Luke stood in the doorway.

"Ginji!" Luke greeted with a smile. The silver haired pilot looked well, he was glad to see. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks." Ginji stared in understandable awe. "Didn't the God-Generals ...?" He shut his mouth, perhaps afraid to ask more.

Luke nodded; the mention of his captivity reopened old wounds, particularly his old pride, but now, out of Daath he felt no fear in talking about it. The point was, he was the God-Generals' prisoner no longer, and that was enough for now.

"I escaped; someone helped me out," Luke said. Lloyd was still outside--it was hard to do a proper introduction when the person Luke wanted to introduce Ginji to wasn't here. "Were the others here?" Luke asked eagerly, brightening up at the prospect. He couldn't wait to see the others again!

Ginji donned a sad smile. For a moment Luke's heart stopped, fearing the worst as he did in the port.

"No, they already went to stop the core's vibration. The operation will take a few days to complete, so feel free to kill time until they return."

The unspoken doubt pounded on Luke's ears like a drum--_if _they returned.

"Oh ... okay." Luke tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but it seeped through his speech anyway. So close, and yet so far. The thought of returning to them made him strong, resilient in Van's cage. The moment Lloyd had opened his cage Luke made an effort to fly to his old friends.

But he couldn't fly with clipped wings.

-

He sat dejectedly in the marketplace, watching the sea of people going about their business. The smell of metal and fontech was sharp here, as to be expected in Sheridan, technological boomtown of Kimlasca. From his vantage point on the bench he watched people haggle for this, spend unbelievable amounts of gald for that, some others (fontech buffs) only chattering away passionately on their favorite subjects.

Luke thought about buying something, but with the meager amount Lloyd had given him he couldn't buy much in Sheridan, not that it mattered much--the trinkets and gadgets for sale here didn't really hold his interest. In fact, he considered buying only something he would need--a new change of clothes for one, more medicine, perhaps stuff with which to clean his sword.

Lloyd, however, was having the time of his life, zipping around the marketplace like a kid in a candy store. He came back a little while later, plopping down on the bench beside Luke, a knife in one hand, a block of wood in another. Within fifteen minutes he had carved a figure--a simple little songbird with wings outstretched.

"Nice," Luke said, admiring the crafting, "you should paint it."

Lloyd took back the wooden figure, looking over as he shrugged. "Yeah, but not out here. Too messy. I don't think the people to sit on this bench next would appreciate drops of wet paint on it."

Luke gave a small chortle at the thought of someone sitting on splatters of wet paint. Nope, not a one would be very happy at all. "Say," he began, still looking at the figure, "where'd you learn to do stuff like that?"

"Oh," Lloyd shrugged, wrapping the figurine in a piece of cloth, stowing it away in his pack. "My foster father's a craftsman. He'd sure love this place."

Luke froze, heart stopping. He had completely forgotten.

_This place._

In Daath, in the cathedral, in Dist's lab--they had said they would--they might've even predicted that Luke would head here--how could he have been so stupid!?

"Oh, no," Luke whispered in a rush, jumping to his feet.

"Luke?" Lloyd clumsily gathered his things, running off after Luke.

The people of Sheridan had no clue what might happen--what was about to happen--he had deluded himself into thinking he was in the clear, but in reality he had never been too far from their grasp. He would always be within their reach, so long as their goals remained polar opposites.

Cantabile was no fool--she had not sent great numbers of forces after her escapee and his accomplice or even bothered to completely seal off the port for one reason only--she had known she'd be able to reach him again.

She knew he would head here. Like a hummingbird to sweet nectar he was lured here at the thought that his old companions might be here, which was true, they had been here--but it was that easy for her to follow him.

Luke rushed to the plaza, toward the city gates--if he could get to the port, perhaps he could keep the enemy from the city, lure them away, or do something--

"Luke!" Lloyd reached out, yanking Luke back by the tailcoats.

Gunshots rang out; Luke fell flat on his bottom, smoking bullets buried in the cobblestone inches from where he had been just a moment ago. Twice Lloyd had saved Luke's life.

The clinking and clanging of metal armor announced the presence of the Oracle Knights; an entire platoon of them flooded into the city, fanning out to surround Luke and Lloyd in the plaza, before the meeting room.

From the city gates a woman garbed in the uniform of a God-General stalked into the plaza, her fonic handguns still smoking from their earlier fire. Her blonde hair was wound up behind her head, and her steel blue eyes regarded her quarry coldly.

"Legretta!" Luke shouted, scrambling to his feet. His hand flew to his sword hilt, but he froze when Legretta deftly aimed a gun at him. Lloyd moved--and stopped, for Legretta pointed the other at him.

The plaza seemed to go deaf to the rest of the city--the goings-on of the city could still be heard, as could the noises of the fon machinery, but the Oracle Knights cut off this one place from the rest of the world, trapping their prey.

Again Luke found himself in Van's cage.

Legretta's eyes narrowed dangerously, glaring daggers at the two young men who defied the will and power of the God-Generals. She inched a bit closer, yet her targets made no move, knowing perfectly well she would shoot if they so much as breathed wrongly.

"Pray tell," she spat icily, "how did you escape Daath?"

Well, their first mistake was leaving only two--only one of which was truly competent in this task--to guard the prisoner, but Luke said nothing, eyes fixed on the quicksilver aimed between his eyes. He rather liked not being shot.

"I broke him out," Lloyd said defiantly, a hand on a sword hilt.

Legretta smiled coyly. "Ah, the thief. The librarian is not happy you stole our books."

Luke's eyes darted to Lloyd, mouth open in disbelief. "You stole from _Daath's library?" _he repeated incredulously, suddenly recalling quite vividly the books Lloyd had been reading by the campfire a mere week ago.

"There were multiple copies," Lloyd shrugged it off, as if stealing books from the world's most valuable source of information was nothing to be upset over. Luke didn't like to study, but still he found himself quite upset that someone would steal from that treasure house.

"That's not why we're here,"

Luke shuddered as more Oracle Knights entered the city, led by none other than Cantabile the Steadfast. In Daath she had looked menacing enough, but here, in her element, on the field, surrounded by her soldiers, she was downright terrifying.

"Legretta," Cantabile addressed the blonde gunner, who responded with an unkind scowl. "Van is at the port. Go help him."

Legretta threw a nasty look at the two young men under her guns. Finally with reluctance she tore herself away, running out of the city gates, troops of Oracle Knights on her heels. Legretta became awfully cooperative whenever Van was involved, just like Luke. However, now Luke was cooperative for entirely different reasons, reasons he was glad of.

Luke and Lloyd simultaneously drew their swords, the sound of metal scraping richly against that of leather scabbards filling the air--the Oracle Knights responded in kind, although they did not move from their current formation.

Cantabile smirked, stepping forward. She offered a hand to Luke, to the Scion of Lorelei's power.

"There is no need for steel." She said simply. "Why not join our crusade?"

"Why not, indeed," Luke spat, eyes hard. "I won't have any part in destroying more of the Outer Lands!"

Cantabile withdrew her hand, that same hand going to the hilt of her katana.

"Pity," She murmured, drawing her weapon. The blade shimmered in the afternoon sunlight. "But if Gailardia won't join us, there's little hope that you would."

Luke blinked, his blood running cold through his veins. "You ... know Guy?"

A sly smile adorned Cantabile's face, the slick smile of the trickster fox that knew how to ensnare its prey.

"Why yes, I do. We grew up on Hod prior to its collapse. We're--how would you say? _Childhood friends." _ The last bit she let drip, like venom from a snake's fangs.

For an instant Luke burned with jealousy, that Guy might have friends he valued more than Luke, friends that knew and understood Guy better than Luke could ever hope to. That kind of deep understanding--he'd give anything to understand that about at least one person in his life.

But at the thought of how Guy bluntly refused Van's allegiance when he had more reason than anyone to join Van's crusade, the envy burned away into a grim determination.

Before, he had been nothing more than a burden.

Now, he would prove he could hold his own ground.

Luke made the first strike. Cantabile expertly deflected it and forced Luke back--single-handedly. Instantly Luke knew this woman was not one to be trifled with. Lloyd leapt to the battle, driving Cantabile back with a Sword Rain: Beta. Startled, Luke recognized the move as something similar to Guy's attacks. Just who was Lloyd Irving?

The two-on-one fight dragged on, and as time passed it was clear that Cantabile was winning. The lavender-haired woman had taken the center of the plaza, and if Luke or Lloyd came too close to the Oracle Knights who held the plaza's perimeter, they would stab at the young men.

So it was really no surprise that Luke found himself tiring rapidly. He was already slipping up--evading belatedly, his blows deflected effortlessly, once he even got in Lloyd's way.

"Come on!" Cantabile roared, swinging mercilessly at Luke, who blocked each strike with immense difficulty and was losing ground fast. "You trained under Van! You can do better than that, Fabre!"

Luke wished he was faring better, the burning in his arms making it hard to keep going on. He wanted to point out that he' d been training under Van for only so long, but refrained. Plus, Van had probably not trained Luke seriously, believing there would be no need for the replica to fight.

Metal clanged loudly in his ears as Cantabile leaned close in a deadlock, sparks dancing off the blades, dying on the cobblestone street. Luke strained to hold his ground, the sheer strength of Cantabile's pressing making him lean back slightly. A single bead of sweat rolled down his brow, off the tip of his nose.

"Luke!" Lloyd shouted, face wrought of distress.

Cantabile threw Luke off, raising her katana for another strike. Belatedly Luke flung up his sword to block it--

Luke's sword clattered across the cobblestone plaza. Blood bloomed on the ground in large crimson droplets. Luke fell down, face screwed up in pain as he held a great gash in his left arm--his sword arm.

Red rivulets ran off Cantabile's blade.

"Hmph. You bad mouth Van's cause and this is all you can come up with?" She approached Luke, who merely bowed his head, either in shame, or to avoid looking at the ugly wound weeping blood from his arm. He said nothing. "Farewell."

Luke looked up, Cantabile's figure blocking the sunlight overhead. All he could think of was the pain in his arm, and his imminent death--

"Over my dead body!" Lloyd shouted, bringing his sword down on Cantabile's causing her aim to go awry. Luke scurried away, careful not to get too close to the Oracle Knights holding the perimeter.

Lloyd was doing remarkably well against Cantabile; he even managed to graze her arm with a Sonic Thrust attack. Once more they deadlocked, almost nose to nose, trying to debunk the other by sheer force. Cantabile paused, as if considering something.

"A resemblance ..." She whispered.

Lloyd swayed, completely caught off guard at her words. Cantabile threw him off, placing a respectable distance between them. An Oracle Knight rushed up to her and announced quite loudly, "Sync the Tempest has completed his mission!"

Luke froze from his spot on the ground, hot blood seeping between his fingers.

_Dist's voice was a somber hiss. "A suicide mission, then."_

Cantabile sheathed her sword, casting a sideways glance at Luke, who still sat, bloody, in shock.

"We'll finish another time. But I'm giving you time to decide--join us and live, or oppose us and die."

With a snap of her fingers and a turn of her heel, Cantabile the Steadfast and her Oracle Knights departed Sheridan, leaving Luke and Lloyd in a desolate plaza.

Lloyd heaved a sigh, sheathing his swords. He went over to Luke, kneeling beside his companion. Gingerly he examined the nasty wound on Luke's sword arm. He had Luke remove his coat as he treated the wound, though the entire time he was distant, lost in thought.

Luke noticed this--Lloyd knew what he was doing insofar as dressing this wound, but he was far gone in his own train of thought.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked, though he felt a little silly asking it--he was the one with the great weeping gash in the arm, whereas Lloyd was practically unscathed. Lloyd snapped out of his trance, placing a pin on the gauze binding the injury. He dropped his gaze, stooped shoulders giving a half shrug.

"No, it's nothing ..."

But the dead look did not leave his eyes.


	10. Replaced

Hikaru: I love this part to pieces, but writing it's been really difficult. Like it refuses to be written.

--

_Dist's voice was a somber hiss. "A suicide mission, then."_

_"Sync the Tempest has completed his mission!"_

_"Van is at the port. Go help him."_

_"No, they already went to stop the core's vibration."_

Luke brooded, glaring daggers at the far wall of the room. He had wanted to go to the port to make sure Van hadn't done anything to the others, but Lloyd had stopped him on the grounds that with such a wound on his sword arm, Luke wouldn't be able to do one thing to help. So it was with heavy heart that Luke allowed himself to be dragged to the inn. He had been sitting in this same spot on the bed, leaning on the headboard, staring at that same section of wall for the last five hours, the only changes he noticed those of the sun setting and the silver moonlight spilling in the room through the window.

Everything had been so chaotic lately, and nothing was certain, if the others could even get back alive from their mission, and then what they would say if they met up with Luke again. Would they welcome him back? Or would they dismiss him as useless, unable to stall the God-Generals even with the information he had obtained beforehand?

Nothing was certain anymore--the only certain thing he knew was the aching cut on his arm that made it painful to move much. That, and he was angry with Lloyd. He shouldn't be, Lloyd had done better than Luke did--to hold off Cantabile for so well, so long, and come out unscathed! But the only thing Luke had wanted was to see if his friends were all right, and Lloyd had strongly disagreed. Lloyd had probably saved Luke's life by this decision, but this irrational anger would not let go.

He had not seen Lloyd after that, spending the last five hours in this inn by himself, watching the light on the wall change from yellow, to gold, to red-orange, and then silver. The window was open as well, allowing the cool night air inside.

A soft knock on the door. Luke never moved once, sitting in the same way he had been sitting for last five hours. The door opened, and in walked Lloyd, bringing a young man dressed in the garb of an Order of Lorelei church healer. The healer had hazel eyes, short platinum blond hair sticking out from under his hat.

"This the one?" The healer asked, and Lloyd nodded, never taking his gaze from Luke.

The healer swiftly approached Luke, who didn't budge once. "Name's Segal," he said, placing a bag on the bedside table that undoubtedly contained medical supplies. "Where's the wound?"

Finally Luke moved, rolling up the sleeve that concealed his bandaged injury. The bleeding had stopped, but it could easily reopen. The gauze was heavily stained. Segal took a small penknife, slicing through the gauze. It popped off like a shell; the blood hardened the cloth when it dried. Luke winced as his freshly clot wound made contact with the open air, crusted over with dark dried blood.

Segal put on a pair of gloves, gently examining the wound. "This was a sword wound?" He asked, an index finger tracing the ragged seam where the flesh knit itself together. Luke nodded mutely.

"Katana," Lloyd supplied, watching from afar, brow knit with worry.

Segal didn't bother replying, instead placing both hands on the gash, eyes closing to concentrate. Seventh Fonons began to congregate around the healer as he emitted a soft green glow, the glow of healing artes.

"O divine embrace that fosters life," he murmured, shaping the Seventh Fonons, "Cure!"

The green light washed over Luke's arm, bathing the wound in restorative Seventh Fonons. The white line that marked where the skin had split open faded, almost vanishing completely. The crusts of dried blood flaked off, revealing newly regenerated skin underneath.

Segal finished the spell as quickly as he could as was healthy. He reached into his bag, withdrawing an apple gel. He rubbed the gel between his hands, rubbing it over the freshly healed wound on Luke's arm. The treatment was complete with a change of bandages, though they weren't as thick as the last change.

"Done," Segal said briskly, stripping his gloves. "In a while he'll be fine, just make sure he rests so his body can finish up the healing."

Lloyd nodded, digging in his bag for his wallet. He shelled out an amount of gald Luke could not see; the healer took the money, giving it only a sparing glance before he put it away. Segal gave a slight bow as he made his leave.

Lloyd made a few steps toward Luke, who resumed staring at that same piece of wall.

"Are you all right?" Lloyd broke the dead silence.

Luke sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He was stiff from not moving for so many hours straight. He slowly stood, stretching out his limbs, being careful with his newly healed arm.

"Sorry," Luke muttered to the floor, unsure if Lloyd could even hear him. "I know I couldn't have done anything ... "

Lloyd took a seat on his own bed, resting his chin in his hands.

"Your friends were in danger--I wouldn't have acted any differently."

Luke fell back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. His friends were, at this very moment, in the Qliphoth, in the planet's core, with Sync aboard the Tartarus. What other thing could the Oracle Knight have meant, that Sync completed his mission to stop the others in the core? He must have snuck aboard the Tartarus. Sync was a God-General, but he was on his own down there against five skilled fighters that were sure as hell not going down easily.

He knew they would come back safely. They just had to. Luke didn't know if he could accomplish anything against Van on his own. The task was just far too daunting.

-

Two days afterwards, Luke decided to try his luck with his newly healed arm. On the outskirts of town in the north Luke and Lloyd faced off, both with equal resolve.

The fighting was fierce, even if it was only mock fighting. Luke had made Lloyd promise not to hold back just because he had recovered from an ugly wound. The faster he got back into practice, the lesser chance he would end up with another injury like that one.

The fields of fonons utilized in this sparring session were intense--Luke would attack with Devil's Maw, Lloyd would counter with a Hunting Beast, and each the other found themselves rolling across the battlefield to dodge one another's hits.

Unfortunately the session ended with Lloyd's sword tip digging into Luke's throat--after such a sparring session Luke felt he simply had to ask.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Lloyd lowered his sword. Just like Luke, he was huffing for breath, dirty and sweaty from the battle. He bent, offering a helping hand to Luke (who had been floored by a previous attack). Luke accepted the hand, and Lloyd hoisted him to his feet.

"I taught myself," he said, "but my dad helped me refine it."

"A helping father, huh," Luke said quietly. "I wish my father were half as nice."

An awkward silence prevailed wherein the two swordsmen just resting, watching the sea beyond Sheridan's cliffs. The sun had just climbed to high noon; the heat was picking up just a little. Days were hot, sometimes unbearably so, on Radessia.

"Hey," Lloyd said abruptly. "Why do you say you don't trust me?"

Luke gave Lloyd an annoyed glance, as if the other lad should know perfectly well the answer to that question.

"Because I don't know who you are, where you came from, and why you're helping me."

Lloyd frowned, brow furrowed. Evidently he wasn't pleased that Luke did not trust him.

"Aren't you being just a little unfair?" He omitted the fact that he had saved Luke's life not once, not twice, but thrice now--breaking him out of Daath, saving him from Legretta's bullets, and keeping Luke out of danger when he was in no condition to fight.

"No, I'm not." Luke retorted, feeling the sting of guilt that he wasn't being grateful that Lloyd saved him. "I'm being smart for once and using my own head. I'm not going to ... blindly trust people anymore. I'm not going to make another Akzeriuth." The last part was a ghost of whisper. Unlike when he was on the cargo ship en route to Sheridan, now Luke didn't care if Lloyd found out what made Akzeriuth fall.

Lloyd had already helped plenty, and if his knowing the truth behind Akzeriuth made him want to leave, then Luke was not going to be the one to stop him. Luke was prepared for such an event. From now on he was going to make his own decisions.

-

Luke never knew Lloyd could be such a stingy shopper. It was true they were low on gald, and apparently Segal the healer had asked a high price--just for healing one injury! One!

But Luke didn't know when they were going to get another chance to shop, so it was best to be prepared while they could still prepare. After a bit of persuading, Lloyd agreed on one thing--that Luke definitely needed a change of clothing, especially what they suffered through under Daath's cathedral. That wasn't exactly what Luke had in mind, but ... oh, well.

Luke turned around, looking at his reflection in the full-length mirror. The new outfit rather suited him--a navy blue coat with silver buttons and coattails, a steel grey shirt (not half of one!), pants to match and brown boots up to the knee. He kept his gloves, the one thing from his old outfit that was not utterly ruined beyond reckoning.

There was also a scarf--a light grey--for when he would ever be in a cold place. Keterburg had been a nightmare the last time he went.

Lloyd, who had been browsing capacity cores, turned around. When he laid eyes on Luke, his brow shot up and a broad grin covered his face.

"Wow! That's looks great! Better than that belly look you had going!"

Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the cuffs of his coat at the wrist. "Yeah, well ... to each his own, right? I don't make fun of your suspenders." His eyes darted to the aforementioned accessory.

Lloyd folded his arms, pouting. "Hey, my dad made these clothes for me! D'you think I would insult his work?"

"Not insult," Luke replied, fixing his coat collar, "give fashion advice."

Lloyd scowled, turning back to the capacity cores. The ones in this store had no practical application--they were just fashion accessories. But if taken to a skilled fonist, they could be made practical, perhaps.

Lloyd chose a capacity core, a silver ear cuff. He suggested that Luke get one, too, but the noble politely declined. They were already running up quite the bill with Luke's new clothes and all; they shouldn't spend any more gald until they came by more. They could probably do odd jobs before they left town.

Just as Lloyd was dishing out the bills to the clerk, a flash of platinum blond hair caught Luke's eye. His throat hitched, a strange noise escaping.

"Hunh?" Lloyd looked over his shoulder, in the midst of his transaction.

But Luke was not there.

-

Luke dashed out of the store, cold sweat on his brow, heart pounding, mouth dry. He was positive he had just seen Guy walk on the street outside the store just now. If Guy was here, that meant the others were too, and the operation must be finished! With urgency he pushed past people congesting the streets, worried he would lose Guy's trail. Suddenly it came to him--the only place they'd go was the meeting room in the central plaza.

Luke ran as quickly as he could without downright bowling over the innocent passers-by. He panted for breath as he went, not used to running around so much after his captivity.

Within minutes he reached the plaza, the meeting room standing out like a sore thumb. Luke slowed down, trying to calm himself. He didn't want to look all flustered when he met the others. Maybe just this once he could play it cool ...

He walked up to the door, smiling ear to ear, a hand already on the knob. And stopped, completely petrified. He heard voices inside, along with the familiar--hauntingly familiar voice. One that he had heard only in his head.

Quietly, Luke put an ear to the door.

"Van was at port?" the hauntingly familiar voice asked. "Good thing I stayed in town."

"Yes," Jade's voice replied. It was oddly monotonous--either ridiculously lighthearted or gravely serious, Jade never had an emotionless voice. "Now that the core is stabilized, we must plan our next move."

"The Sephiroth at Tataroo Valley must be activated." Natalia said from within. "Asch, will you command it for us?"

Luke stood, frozen, mouth dry, throat tight, and blood coming to a standstill.

"I said I'd consider it." Asch replied, but as he was addressing Natalia, his tone was remarkably warmer and softer than usual.

"But with Luke held captive by the God-Generals in Yulia knows where," Tear said next, "we have no alternative. Please, Asch."

Were they daft? Had they so little faith in him that the moment something happened, they went trotting back to Asch for help? Did they not think of the most obvious place possible Van would keep him? Natalia Luke could understand, but Tear? Tear was pleading for Asch's help over waiting for Luke or even believing he would eventually come back?

What Luke felt now was best described as betrayal--but no, they hadn't betrayed him, he had betrayed them by getting himself caught in the first place. He had failed them, and as a fitting consequence--he had been replaced.

_He had been replaced._

-

Lloyd had hurriedly finished his transaction with the store clerk, clumsily gathering everything in his arms when he raced out into the streets to find Luke running like hell down to the central plaza. It seemed he was headed toward the meeting room for whatever reason. As long as Lloyd knew where the redhead was going, there was no need to hurry if he wasn't in danger.

So he took time to carry all his belongings comfortably before proceeding the streets to look for his companion. This kind of thing was beginning to bug him, his allies running off on their own without so much as telling him anything beforehand! Granted, they never ran outside whatever town they happened to be in, so danger was minimal, but mindlessly parting company in such a fashion was never a good idea.

Especially for Luke, who had just spent a day and a half bedridden from an injury caused by a God-General. The title obviously reeked of importance of some kind, but Lloyd didn't have the meaning distilled into his mindset. It certainly sounded more frightening than Grand Cardinal, but still.

Wading his way through the sea of people Lloyd found himself in the plaza he was looking for. Even though it wasn't especially crowded, of Luke there was no sign. He turned another three-sixty degrees just to make sure, and stopped.

People filed out of the meeting room, people Lloyd had never seen before and frankly at the moment did not care to. There were three young women, one with honey blonde hair, another with bronze silver, and the last with jet black hair tied into pigtails. The men of the group also numbered three--one had strawberry brunette hair with glasses perched on his nose, another with platinum blond hair, and the third--Lloyd stood rooted to the spot, jaw slack.

The last of the young men wore the black tabard and mantle of a God-General, had jade green eyes, and--here Lloyd had a bit of trouble breathing--a long mane of rich red hair.

He looked exactly identical to Luke.

Lloyd stepped forward, considering asking after this mysterious look alike but stopped himself. Luke wore a different manner of dress, now more than ever, plus had short hair besides. Hair didn't grow that long within a mere five minutes.

The group of people disappeared out of the city gates, and Lloyd pushed them to the back of his mind, dashing through the streets to resume his search for Luke.


	11. The One Left Behind

A/N: My social life sucks right now. Honestly. Ugh. This all happened because people are ANGREH. On the bright side, some of us are closer, and I've got drive to write some killer angst. Oh yeah.

--

He found Luke in his room at the inn, sitting on the ground, staring at the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, rocking back and forth, not really focused on anything. He was staring without seeing, those jade eyes clouded over and distant. Then they glistened with tears unshed, and then the owner of those eyes would harshly blink them back, as if forcing himself not to let them fall. His hands were gripping his kneecaps, so hard his fingers and knuckles were bleached white.

Monotonously he rocked back and forth.

Lloyd cocked his head to one side, completely ignorant of what had happened. He had just been ditched while paying for their recent purchases, and he came back to find _this. _Cautiously he approached, one step at a time. At arm's length away he stood, and the other still hadn't noticed.

Lloyd opened his mouth to say something, but Luke beat him to it.

_"Canjear," _He rocked back, his feet rolling on the heels, and then they came flat on the floor when he rocked forward. He never looked away from that wall. "You know what that means? _Canjear."_

Lloyd shrugged animatedly. He didn't know anything about Luke, his people, or his people's customs. He learned a bit by reading those books from Daath, but that wasn't to say he understood everything right off the bat. Fonons especially. The source material which composed everything at home was easier to understand--necessary for life, created special phenomena a.k.a. magic, and only those of a certain descent could channel it. Fonons were absurdly complicated. Lloyd didn't even know the extent of the languages here. That he even could speak this place's common tongue was probably thanks to Origin.

"No clue." He responded honestly. The one thing he did know about Luke was that Luke never liked to study, and that he grew up speaking the one tongue. So Lloyd had no idea what was up.

Luke rocked again, still gripping his kneecaps. His fingers were curled so tightly, pulling at the material of his pants that they began to resemble claws. A chill jolted down Lloyd's spine.

_"Canjear." _Luke repeated bitterly, poison dripping off his tongue. "Ancient Ispanian, the language of the Dawn Age. I began to study it a while back--might help operate the passage rings." He rocked back and forth again, head lolling to and fro, staring at that wall.

Lloyd worked his jaw, not knowing what to say to break the ice. Luke, however, needed no urging.

"Means ... 'to replace.' To take out one thing and put something else in it's place. Switch, swap, whatever."

The tone Luke took was a frightening one, one that Lloyd had seldom heard spoken even by those completely justified for. Lloyd was slightly scared to speak, but Luke seemed to forget someone else was there, maybe he really didn't even know--he was so far out.

"And this is worth mentioning because ... ?" Lloyd trailed off, waiting for a reply.

Two rocks forward and one rock back later, the redhead followed suit.

"They replaced me."

"What?" Lloyd asked, brow knit, bewildered. They?

Luke nodded, eyes narrowing, brow furrowed, a deep frown engraved in his face. His eyes became hard, angry. "They replaced me. Their passage commander was gone, they needed another one, so they go trotting back to _him." _He spat the last word with obvious disdain, a tone unfamiliar on Luke's tongue.

He abruptly stopped rocking, unfolding his legs, hands falling to the carpet before him. A strange crooked smile spread on his lips, and he tilted his head back, an odd strangled cackle escaping his throat.

"No, no ... of course. I stole everything that ever mattered to him, so of course he should be able to take back what's his. I shouldn't be complaining ... but still." He slammed a fist on the floor, glaring hard at the spot of flattened carpet. The strands of pale fiber sprang right back up, resilient to his force. He smashed that spot again, and again, and again, eager to squash that clump of fibers down, determined to make them stay down. The punches were muted by the carpet, but the force of the blows were just as great.

Lloyd bent forward, grabbing Luke's hand as it came flying down to hit the floor again. The fist stopped in midair; once Lloyd had grabbed the arm to which it was attached it simply hung limp. "What is the matter with you!" Lloyd demanded crossly.

Luke's whole body released all the tension it held--all at once he just went limp, sitting on the ground. He gave a small sigh, rubbing at his eyes.

"They ... my companions. My friends. I saw them, and they ... replaced me. They don't need me." His voice started to break, breath on a hitch. He rubbed his eyes repeatedly, determined to wipe those tears out of existence before they fell. "They don't need me." His voice was quiet, demure, weak.

_"They don't need me."_

All at once Lloyd was forcefully reminded of the group of mismatched people exiting Sheridan with a Daathic God-General in tow. A God-General that was exactly identical to Luke. Seeing Luke now, talking like this, being like this ... this was ... this was someone else all over again. That had been excruciatingly painful, and Lloyd had no desire to repeat it. And the red hair did not help to put that memory out of mind.

So he did what what he should have done to that someone else from the get go--he flung his wrist back and punched Luke square in the jaw.

Luke was floored from the impact, flat on the ground on his side. His hand flew to the injured spot, the flesh tender as a bruise began to form. His gaze snapped up to Lloyd, who towered over him darkly, fists clenched tightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but Lloyd simply strode over, grabbed him by the collar, and punched him.

And again.

And again.

Luke scrambled to his feet, but Lloyd executed a well-aimed kick at his midsection--he flew into the bedside table, painfully. He cried out, falling to his knees, massaging his back, where the edge of the table had jabbed into it.

"What the hell--" Luke cut off when Lloyd roughly grabbed him by the collar again, the grey scarf slightly mussed. Lloyd's eyes smoldered darkly, his frown almost jagged.

"I didn't," he growled low in this throat, "break you out of that cathedral so that you could--" his voice began to rise with each word, until he was shouting and spitting venom, "--sit around feeling sorry for yourself! Sorry, princess, but I'm not gonna sit through your pity party!" He finished with another blow to the jaw.

Luke lay eagle-sprawled on the floor, dazed, not comprehending that Lloyd had just beat the living stuff out of him--and even called him by an unsavory nickname that left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stayed on the floor, flat on his back. His eyes flickered with sparks.

"What would you have me do?" He retorted, beginning to sit up, glaring daggers at Lloyd. "My sense of purpose was just destroyed! Tell me! What the hell am I doing now?! What was all that for--I survived all that torture--all that humiliation--only because I thought of them! And this is how ... this is how ..." He choked on the last part, massaging his forehead with a hand, hiding his eyes. His lip quivered, his mouth a jumbled mess of lines twangling downward.

Lloyd slammed a fist on the wall, a loud noise reverberating throughout the room. He had never been so angry, not even in the most dire situations back home.

_"Martel's blood! _I thought you were making your own decisions!"

Luke stopped, considering. He bored holes in his upturned palms. What was he going to do now? He was going to return to the others, but they didn't need him. Lucky there was no shortage of people who could hyperresonate on their own, he thought bitterly. After a time he clenched a fist, squeezed his eyes closed. What could he do ... ?

"Van still needs to be stopped," he offered lamely. Of course he did. But the others were setting out to do just that, weren't they? "But ..."

Lloyd cut him off mid-sentence again; "And? Sitting here making excuses isn't going to change anything. If you want to do something about it, use your own head!"

Luke stared at the ground, at the fibers of carpet he had tried to flatten earlier. Of course he wanted to do something. Van had betrayed him. Van had used him, played him like a chess piece. Manipulated him like a puppet. Taught him to sing the way he wanted, like a caged songbird.

He still had hyperresonance on his side, though it was weaker than Asch's and not totally under his control yet. It was powerful enough to eliminate a city and drive it into the Qliphoth--surely he could use it against Van, even if he could never duplicate the destructive power that took out Akzeriuth.

Van's little songbird had talons.


	12. Reunion with Ion

A/N: A lot of you were worried about the violence last chapter. (smiles) Rest assured nothing of the sort will happen between those two again, at least not for a long while ...

--

Lloyd was right. Luke had no time to be feeling sorry for himself. The main obstacle was Vandesdelca Musto Fende and his grand plan for Auldrant; his former swordsmanship instructor had to be stopped somehow. Recreating the entire world with replicas, land and all, was pure insanity. Now was not the time to be sitting around sulking, for the Outer Lands could fall at any time, especially now with the Sephiroth out of control.

"Why can't you just catch up with them and set things straight?" Lloyd asked, leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest. He eyed Luke warily, almost suspiciously.

Luke shook his head, staring into the wall but not seeing it, thinking, concentrating. "There's no time, besides ... it'd only cause unnecessary conflict. We can't afford that now."

"Then what do you wanna do?"

Luke frowned, considering. He'd been thinking of that for a long time, now; what he would do if he were left alone again. He had one weapon against Van--his hyperresonance, no matter how meek and imperfect it might be in the light of Asch's power. And the one way he could apply it was ...

"Commanding passage rings," Luke murmured, eyes fixed on the familiar wall of the inn room. Commanding the passage rings to safely lower the land so Van wouldn't be able to drop them on a whim and kill everyone and everything on it during the collapse into the Qliphoth.

And even if Asch and the others were setting out to operate more passage rings ...

"Hey." Luke said, a small smile coming to his face. He could hinder Van and help his old pals out--two birds with one stone. And with both himself and Asch working toward each Sephiroth, the work could be done that much faster. He thought. Asch and the others were heading to Tataroo to command it; they'd been able only to take the core's vibration frequency the last time.

Since it was true all passage rings were remotely connected, and they saw Van and Luke's earlier handiwork on different rings ... yes, that was it. Luke had no real immediate need to return to the others. In fact, being separated from them might in fact be beneficial all around.

"I have an idea." Luke said, turning to face Lloyd. "We can still operate the passage rings. And with two passage commanders, it'll be that much faster."

"Passage rings? Those things controlling the Sephiroth trees?" Lloyd quirked a brow, dimly recalling Luke's lesson on the state of the world.

Luke nodded slowly, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying--the very idea of traveling the corners of the earth to operate the rings, possibly confronted by the God-Generals ... he froze. The God-Generals.

"Oh, no," Luke groaned, chewing on his thumbnail, a habit he hadn't quite kicked.

"What's wrong?" Lloyd asked, a little confused on what his companion was thinking.

"Well, first, we need information on where the other Sephiroth are," Luke began to pace around the room slowly as he spoke, "but we'd need to go to Daath to do that. Daath's the only place with information like that. But the last time we were in Daath--"

"I was seen storming the cathedral and you were running away," Lloyd finished, a grimace appearing on his face. And if the God-Generals were at Daath, things would get out of hand fast.

If Luke were with the others, it'd be no big deal; after all, he'd have a skilled swordsman, a master fonist of the Malkuth military, two Oracle Knights, and a master of Lanvaldear style archery with him. But right now, it was just Luke and Lloyd, and even if they both were skilled swordsmen with proficiency in using fonons in their attacks, they would be as nothing before the God-Generals. Their struggle with Cantabile earlier had proved that.

"Say, those books you took from Daath," Luke said suddenly with a glint of hope in his eyes, "they say anything about the Sephiroth?"

Lloyd shook his head, no. "Not a one. Just about the countries of Kimlasca, Malkuth, and Daath, their political history, which can be summed up as: war, mediation, war, war, and war."

Luke groaned again, digging a palm into his forehead, teeth grit. He really, really, _really _did not want to go back to Padamiya. He had been fortunate enough that the saying "what happens on Padamiya stays on Padamiya," was true.

At least thus far.

--

They had hitched another ferry to Daath, although they needed some form of disguise to keep the Oracle Knights from mobbing them upon setting foot there. Luke was already set, having a whole new outfit and everything, but Lloyd was still decked out in the red jacket and overalls he stormed the cathedral with.

It was a crude form of disguise, but Luke had Lloyd tie his jacket around his waist so that the distinctive buttons were hidden, and brush down his flyaway hair. Lloyd didn't like it; brushed down they got in one of his eyes, but Luke maintained that it hid his face more easily. Lloyd pouted but obeyed.

Like in Port Sheridan, there was nothing suspicious about Daath Bay upon setting foot there. Just the sailors going about their own business, which amounted to mostly nothing, seeing how the order keeping Daathic ships in the harbor had not lifted. Everything was perfectly normal. But there was no harm in keeping caution, especially right on the enemy's doorstep.

The journey to Daath was short, although to Luke it felt like an eternity. It was no mean feat to feign as pilgrims journeying to the Order of Lorelei headquarters, but he remained nervous nonetheless. At Fourth Monument Hill, cresting over the city and cathedral ahead, life for the most part seemed undisturbed. But it was quiet, the tense atmosphere from previous visits replaced with something more akin to desertion.

"Something's going on," Luke said as he and Lloyd entered the gates to the city. The city was going about its business as usual so the streets were congested with the people's comings and goings. Strangely, there were fewer--much fewer--Oracle guards than there were the scant week ago Luke had been here.

What was going on?

The cathedral was where everything happening within the Order of Lorelei occurred, so that was where Luke and Lloyd headed, no matter how much the former did not like it. Thankfully they entered the cathedral without incident, although that served only to heighten Luke's anxieties. Something definitely was off.

Normally the cathedral had a healthy supply of Oracle Knights moving about, but of those soldiers Luke saw no sign. Standing there in the middle of the entrance hall in the midst of church folk and pilgrims, Luke could not help but feel worried. The unordinary was certainly something about which to worry, especially when it concerned one of the largest and most powerful militaries on the planet.

"What do we do?" Lloyd asked, staying close to Luke and keeping out of people's way so as not to draw attention.

Luke considered the question, looking over the cantors, conductors, and acolytes moving leisurely about the cathedral's entrance hall. So much more church folk than those from the military branch ... was Van behind this?

"Oh!" Luke walked toward a familiar robed individual, one who had helped him out before. "Maestro Tritheim!"

The maestro, who had been speaking with a few cantors, turned. A large smile spread on his face when he saw who approached him. "Luke!" He bent slightly forward, clasping hands over his forehead in the traditional greeting. A little uncomfortable, Luke answered with a slight nod. Tritheim straightened up. "It's good to see you again. How have you been, my boy?"

"Uhm, maestro," Luke shifted nervously, scared that some of the church folk wandering about, namely those cantors staring at him, might recognize him. "Would you know where Ion is?"

"Why, in his room." Tritheim answered, that smile still plastered on his face. He seemed completely oblivious to the situation at hand. And perhaps it was better that way.

Luke thanked Tritheim and led Lloyd to the east wing, the room with staircases spiraling upward to the floors above, and the fonic glyphs that led into the Fon Master's room.

"Who's Ion?" Lloyd asked as he and Luke stood on the intricately carved glyphs. Luke began to recite the rather unimaginative incantation to activate the glyphs. Upon teleporting to the floors above, Luke answered.

"Ion's the Fon Master--supreme leader--of the Order of Lorelei. He's a very good friend of mine."

Luke knocked on the door a few times, waiting with bated breath. The last time he had seen Ion was in Tataroo Valley, mere moments before the God-Generals Sync and Legretta had abducted him. Ion had collapsed because he had used a Daathic fonic arte in an attempt to free Luke from the sea of Oracle Knights he'd been swept up in. The memory still haunted Luke, and he was afraid now that he stood on Ion's doorstep.

Moments too soon, the door opened to reveal a very tired looking Fon Master, but upon seeing Luke, he almost screamed with joy.

"Luke! You're safe!" he nearly bowled Luke over with a bear hug, his wiry arms binding Luke's torso in a vice grip.

"Ion ... can't ... breathe ..." Luke ground out. Lloyd gently pried the young Fon Master from the redhead, the latter gasping for breath.

"Come inside!" Ion chirped like a songbird, as if he had not just nearly squeezed every square inch of air from Luke's lungs. He ushered his visitors inside, closing the door behind them.

"What happened?" Ion inquired, elation replaced with grim seriousness as he eyed Luke. "After the God-Generals caught you, we could only open the Daathic seal and measure the core's vibration."

"Well ..." Luke proceeded to explain everything that happened after his abduction, about Dist's experiments with memory particles, overhearing the God-Generals' plan to ambush Sheridan, of Lloyd's timely rescue operation, and finally that the others had taken on Asch as their passage commander.

"You ... were held here?" Ion asked in a low voice, disbelieving.

"Under the cathedral, actually," Luke replied noncommittally. "So what happened in the core?"

"Well, first we got the peace treaty signed in Yulia City." Ion replied, a cringe crossing his face. "Asch ... was there with us."

Luke scowled, but as this was not something he could help, motioned for Ion to go on. "And in the core?"

Ion worked his jaw, nothing of speech emerging. His brow was knit together, olive green eyes concentrated on the floor, as if he did not want to share those events, even with Luke. Luke quirked a brow, lips parted, a nonverbal question.

Finally, Ion spoke.

"We got into the core all right. But upon trying to leave with the Albiore, the fonic glyph that would protect it was erased. Sync had snuck onboard to kill us all."

Ah, Luke was right. Sync had in fact stowed away on the Tartarus. That entire ambush was just a diversion for that one action. No wonder Cantabile walked away, leaving Luke and Lloyd alive. She could have easily killed them, especially with Luke injured in the sword arm.

"We defeated Sync and proceeded to retrace the glyph, Tear and Jade," Ion continued, looking more uneasy by the second. "Then, right when we were about to leave ... Tear was possessed."

Luke's jaw dropped, eyes going wide. "Possessed? What do you mean?"

"Lorelei." Ion answered, somewhat distantly. "It said ... that its power was being absorbed by something enormous, and that's what's causing the Sephiroth's instability. But it disappeared right after that, and we had to leave the core."

Luke cupped his chin thoughtfully. Lorelei had taken over Tear's consciousness? Legends held that Yulia had once summoned Lorelei, the collective consciousness of the Seventh Fonon. If Lorelei had possessed Tear, then she really must be a descendant of Yulia. Along with Van, he thought with a scowl.

"So this is Lloyd?" Ion asked, derailing Luke's train of thought. Lloyd stepped forward, shaking Ion's hand, smiling in his greeting.

"Yeah. I'm Lloyd, pleased to meet you!"

"Ion, why are you in Daath?" Luke suddenly asked, the thought struck like lightning. "Shouldn't you be with the others?"

Ion shrugged, a sad smile appearing on his face. "Well, yes, but since I already removed the Daathic seal at Tataroo, I asked if they could take me back to Daath. I ... wanted to see if I could find out about you."

"Oh." Luke said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. The odd silence prevailed for a time, until another thought occurred. "Something weird's going on here," he said, waving an arm to mean the entire cathedral. "Is Van behind it?"

Ion shrugged, a sign he didn't really know. After all, he had just gotten back, and not like anybody working under the God-Generals would tell him anything of Van's doings. They were the enemy, for Yulia's sake.

Luke hung his head, thwarted again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ion's smile grow bigger until it spanned from ear to ear. He was thinking of something, but Luke wasn't sure if he wanted to know what.

"Want to know what Van's up to?" Ion repeated, that silly smile shamelessly wide. "Why don't you disguise yourself as Asch?"

"What?!" Luke dumbly repeated, jaw slack. Never had the thought occurred to him, not even the instance where a group of Oracle Knights in Belkend had mistaken him for Asch.

But Ion hadn't even heard, he dashed out of his room to fetch the disguises he had in mind. A chill ran down Luke's spine. Well, it wasn't a bad idea, and he'd have more of an idea of what Van's group was up to, if there were any God-Generals here.

"Passing off as a God-General?" Lloyd gave a low whistle of admiration. "Nice." Apparently he chose to conveniently forget that the idea belonged to Ion.

Luke shrugged, torn between opposing and advocating it. "Well, we look alike, so it should work as long as we steer clear of Van. Van would know the difference."

The last statement was a mere ghost of a whisper.


	13. Oracle's Rally and Reiner

A/N: Any of you with siblings out there have any advice on getting a younger seventh grade sister to help clean up the house she trashed? --

--

Ion was one of the most dispassionate people he knew, and yet here the young Fon Master was, decking him and his companion out with Daathic disguises, and then as enthusiastic as for a wedding. Ion had sent acolytes to bring him certain articles of clothing and then some--Luke spotted in the pile of stuff on the desk a long haired wig blood red, a maestro sword, and a lorcrian sergeant's hat.

Ion sorted through the pile, humming with a pleasant smile as he did so. Every so often, when he found a garment needed to piece together a certain disguise, he would throw the garment at the person it was meant for and resume his search. Luke already had an armful of clothes, an assortment of garments that were hauntingly familiar.

Lloyd was not looking too happy. He, too, possessed the majority of his Daathic camouflage, and glared at the uniform. The hat he could deal with, and the gloves and the shirt, but ...

"Do I honestly have to wear really tight pants?" He gingerly held out the aforementioned article of clothing, a frown engraved deeply on his face.

Luke held out the apparel of Asch the Bloody in response.

"Hey, you're not wearing short shorts and thigh-high boots."

"I suppose ..." Lloyd ceded, but reluctantly.

"Enough chatter!" Ion chirped, that same enthusiastic smile plastered on his face. "Some of the God-Generals are here now, so hurry up if you want to dig up some dirt on them!"

Luke tilted his head to one side, looking curiously at Ion. Ion's speech was normally quite formal, he wouldn't say things like, "dig up some dirt" in referring to obtaining information from people. But then again, he didn't know Ion for very long--perhaps his manner of speech changed when he was alone with friends. Or at least one friend; Lloyd and Ion knew each other for a grand total of twenty minutes.

Nonetheless he changed clothes as quickly as possible--or at least as quickly was one who had never worn Daathic apparel could. He had trouble putting on the shirt, among other bits of the uniform. The gloves and boots should have been easy, but Luke had never worn boots that encompassed nearly his entire leg. In the end Ion had to help him get into the uniform properly.

Lloyd was having just as much trouble, if not more. For one, the hat would not stay put because of Lloyd's unruly hair that stuck every which way, seemingly defying gravity. Ion had said that nothing could be done except to brush it down--an idea that Lloyd had not taken kindly to at all. He protested that his hair was not just a bunch of dead tissue in the form of tiny little strings shooting out of his head, his hair was an extension of himself, a form of self expression. This he maintained as vehemently as an artist would about a masterpiece painting or sculpture.

"Lloyd," Ion said in a falsely sweet voice that he could have learned only from Anise, "let me brush it down or I will cut it off."

Thusly Lloyd acquiesced to Ion's demand. Brushed down, his hair covered nearly half his face, certainly one of his eyes. Annoyed, Lloyd deigned to tie it back into a tail at the nape of his neck--it didn't look bad, and this way the hat stayed on without any danger of falling off at even a slight movement. Luke gave a noise of awe as Lloyd buckled his mantle together.

"Wow, I don't think they'll recognize you dressed like that!"

"Ditto," Lloyd replied, a little irritably as he tried to adjust to moving in such ... constrictive pants.

Luke nodded in agreement; Lloyd had a point. Studying himself in the long mirror Ion had brought into the study, he looked just like Asch in his uniform, save the hair length--he had not yet put on the wig, and Luke thought it strange to see Asch with short hair. He wondered who had made the wig and why; for what reason could someone have with a wig the exact length and shade of Asch's hair? Well, it mattered not.

When he had put the wig on properly, Luke had to keep himself from gasping; instead he merely sucked the air between his teeth in surprise. He had heard it and seen it a dozen times over, but he could not get over how identical he looked to Asch. After it came out that he was a replica, he had avoided looking in a mirror as often as possible. After all, who would want a mirror of glass when they had a mirror of flesh walking about?

"Are you ready?" Lloyd asked, strapping one sword to his waist, the other to his back. This way, it merely looked as if he carried a spare on his back, for no doubt the Oracle Knights, and some few of the God-Generals would remember the way Lloyd had carried his swords before.

Luke reluctantly belted the maestro sword around his waist as Asch would wear it. He was not used to carrying a blade on his side instead of his back, but if he were to masquerade as Asch he would need to at least look comfortable with it. A slight frown was etched upon his face. In the mirror, it was not any expression Asch would have liked to be seen with.

"Not ... quite." Luke said, scratching the back of his head. Not even in the cathedral hall yet, and he was already screwing up his supposed impersonation of one the most skilled God-Generals. Even an acolyte would be suspicious if they saw Asch acting this way.

"That's not Asch!" Ion admonished, though not unkindly. "Get angry! Contort your face in anger! Strike fear into the very heart of any man who would dare doubt you!"

Luke tried, but hearing and seeing Ion acting like this ... so very silly, it made his face crack up in laughter. Turning to the mirror, he tried again--furrow his brow, frown deeply. Instead of looking truly angry, it was a pale imitation of expression. No good ... get angry, Luke thought. What would make him so angry as to be a convincing Asch the Bloody?

Many things. His captivity under Sync, the strange memory particle experiments with Dist, hearing about the ambush of the others with Sheridan, the way Cantabile had so easily bested him in combat in Sheridan's town square, and the way he had been so readily left behind. Long ago he learned not to let his anger show--as if he had any right to be angry about anything back then!--instead keeping it deep within. Jade had discouraged such bottling of powerful emotion--if left unchecked they could burst open at a delicate time and cause great inconvenience at the best, injury or death at the worst.

Slowly the anger kept dormant within surfaced, oozing out at first, then roiling to a frothy boil as Luke dwelt more and more on it. Virulently he smirked, and his reflection truly looked as if Asch the Bloody were staring at him from just under the glass's surface.

"Yeah, that's it!" Ion clapped his hands together, satisfied with the apparent acting. Luke did not have the heart to say it was no act.

True as the expression was, when Luke heard Lloyd next, it coaxed a small smile.

"Let's hurry up and get it done with," Lloyd had said testily, his walking a bit strange. "I don't wanna stay in these pants longer than I have to."

--

Knowing what Asch would say was fairly easy; it was the emotion in the words that made being Asch so challenging. Nonetheless Luke's masterful mask seemed to convince the church folk and ordinary soldiers of the Oracle Knights well enough, or what scant few of the soldiers roamed about the cathedral. The cathedral was usually swimming with them; the Knights were always on the move. One of the reasons Luke had even agreed to this idea of portraying Asch was to investigate this strange happening.

Many of the acolytes and other church folk had seen Lloyd storm the cathedral that fateful day mere weeks ago, and yet when the alleged criminal himself paraded before them (as well as he could in those dreadfully constrictive pants), they hardly batted an eyelash. Their disguises were working like a charm; none suspected them of their true identities. Yet deep down Luke knew that impressing the church folk was no mean feat--it was fooling the God-Generals that was the test.

As Luke had confided to Lloyd before, he sincerely hoped that Van was not in the Oracle Knights headquarters below the cathedral, not in Daath. If anyone could tell the difference between original and replica, then it was the replica's very creator. Van had spent adequate time with each of them, seven years and then some. In fact, it was safe to say Luke had been raised more by Van than either of his parents; the only other person Luke could say raised him was Guy, and perhaps a bit of Natalia.

Since the Oracle Knight headquarters was soldier territory and not for church folk, the walkways down into the headquarters was dreadfully deserted, dreadfully quiet. There should have been a guard at the door, but there was no one, only the vast empty hall of bronze gold to greet them. The actual journey from the outside to the headquarters below was not very long, but to Luke, who was still nervous about playing Asch before his coworkers, it was an eternity before they came to the huge open arena where the soldiers trained.

Upon setting foot in the training arena, Luke immediately understood why there were no Oracle Knights above: they were all down here. The training grounds swarmed with knights clad in the black and gold tabards and mantles of the Oracle, packed together like so many cattle or horses penned in the same enclosure. The thought made him sightly sick to think of, but for the Oracle Knights as an organization it seemed to fit them well enough.

At the center of the arena there were three God-Generals: Arietta the Wild, Dist the Reaper, and none other than Cantabile the Steadfast. They seemed to be directing the huge masses of Oracle Knights, for they were indeed on the move. Most of them carried trunks and bags and other manners of transporting belongings, meaning all these Knights were to go somewhere apart from Daath. But why would so many knights, apparently the entire army, leave Daath, their base of operations?

In the center of the arena was where the answer would be found if he so sought it. Reluctantly Luke put one foot before the other, having to weave between hustling Oracle Knights to make his way. Lloyd kept up without difficulty, perfectly calm despite his earlier complaining of the discomfort his pants had brought. The soldier speaking to Arietta snapped his hand into a salute, clanking away to attend to whatever errand the younger general had sent him to.

Being this close to the God-Generals, mortal enemies, made Luke's heart jump in his throat. He took deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. Relax, relax ... He would tell himself. You're a God-General, you're a God-General ... this he chanted in his head over and over as if it were some sort of protective mantra. Playing the part of a God-General could be quite fun and empowering, if only there weren't so disastrous a consequence waiting for him if his play was flawed.

"What's going on here?" Luke demanded, donning Asch's voice. To his surprise it came quite naturally, not at all what he expected. It must have been accurately done, for Arietta turned toward him, saying, "We're finally doing it, Asch. We're rallying the Oracle Knights to join Van!" She paused, and for the first time ever, Luke saw Arietta smile. "Not one of them refused. We all believe adamantly in Van's vision."

"Rallying the Oracle Knights ..." Luke repeated in a soft whisper. Not one of them refused, she had said. They all believed adamantly in Van's vision of a world without the Score. How very ironic. Daath was the country where displaced people began new lives as advocates and protectors of Yulia's Score, and yet many people were displaced, sometimes violently so, by that very same Score. The people whose lives were torn apart by it were expected to protect and uphold it.

No wonder they so readily rallied under Van's banner.

But Van needed only dispensable pawns to move his plans forward and protect himself. These Oracle Knights truly believed in him, only to be taken advantage of just as more and more lives were derailed by a holy war fought in the Score's name. Luke frowned, disgusted with himself. Even though he saw through Van's sham of heroism to these people, all he could think of Van was that he was still amazing for being able to win over an entire army, the army of a world power, no less! Lloyd, beside him, gave him a small nudge; the noble snapped out of his reverie.

"You showed your face quickly enough, after that stunt you pulled in Baticul." Dist sneered, clearly displeased as he finished ordering a few Knights to run errands for him. It was strange for Dist to be without his floating chair; apart from it he stood almost bowl legged, slightly hunched over with his hands clasped behind his back.

Luke knew what Dist spoke of: the time when Asch had shown up and rescued him, Natalia, and just about everyone else from being murdered in Baticul to restart the war. In the meantime, between then and now, Luke had no idea what Asch had been doing, but nonetheless--the show must go on, yes?

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" Luke sneered, eyes narrow. The part of a God-General, particularly Asch the Bloody, came so easily to him now. It was quite liberating to speak his mind so without being admonished or hushed. Cantabile stepped forward, stopping the retort on Dist's tongue. "You gave us a scare, disappearing after Baticul." Immediately Luke noticed the difference in tone when Cantabile spoke to "Asch" instead of the other God-Generals. Not softer, per se, but more like with more respect than she had for the others.

"I won't ask you what you've been doing," Cantabile continued, "but now is the time to diverge from the Order of Lorelei. You and Van had some disagreement, yes? Even so, will you join him?" She offered her hand, probably more as a symbolic gesture than an actual one, a habit she and Van shared. With a jolt Luke was painfully reminded of that day in the castle dungeon when Van had offered his hand to Luke, the same way Cantabile was now.

"He needs you, Asch." Cantabile said quietly.

_I need you, Luke._

Luke's throat caught with a torrent of memories--of lies, deceit, of when slowly but surely Van had been molding the mindless pawn to flawless perfection, to be loyal to none but him, to obey him absolutely, to defer to no other. It had made a sick sort of sense why Van had spent so much time putting up with Luke's little tirades. As much as Luke hated the way he had been so blindly manipulated, he couldn't quite bring himself to hate Van for it. He wondered if he could ever hate Van.

Luke knew that Van needed only Asch's hyperresonance, not Asch himself, and surely Asch knew that as well. But given how Asch hated replicas, it was easy to imagine the falling out he and Van must have had when the former was informed of the replica world his master envisioned.

"Van lied to me," Luke said bitterly, not at all acting, nor even needing to at this point. "I won't tolerate that. However ..." Luke clenched his fists, not wanting to say the next part. But if he didn't, his only window into Van's doings was gone. If that were gone, his intention to remotely aid the others in the commanding of passage rings would be jeopardized dangerously. If Luke and the others had trouble fighting a single God-General four against one, then if Luke and Lloyd alone tried to face another God-General should they try to keep them from a passage ring ... Luke steeled himself.

"If Van will be honest with me from now on, I have no qualms about joining him."

Cantabile slowly nodded, withdrawing her hand, but her eyes, at least her good one, never left Luke. He glared back, jade eyes locked with the one shard of amethyst. Apparently satisfied with the answer, Cantabile took her leave, disappearing into the unknowable sea of Oracle Knights. While Cantabile and Luke had been talking, Dist and Arietta were sorting out the Oracle Knights, forming new divisions to work under each of Van's God-Generals.

"Hmm ... we should give Sync's division to the new God-General." Dist murmured to himself. Luke tended to tune things out if he wasn't spoken to directly, but in separate conversations he picked up overly familiar terms, such as his name, or other words as familiar. "New God-General?" He inquired, taking a wide step toward Dist. Dist rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, still not happy with Asch. He had no reason to be happy with the other Locrian Colonel, true, but icy partnerships could have disastrous consequences. "Oh, you were gone." He remarked, spitting acid. "Van picked up a swordsman after the Sheridan ambush. He had nowhere to go, and talent with the sword besides, so Van invested him as a God-General."

"That's right, Sync died in the core," Luke whispered to himself, vividly remembering Ion's account of what had happened in the core. "Who is the new God-General?" Lloyd spoke for the first time since meeting the God-Generals here, somewhat anxiously. Dist peered at him over the rim of his round glasses. "Who are you?" He asked blatantly. Luke coughed, clearing his throat, more to stall for time than anything else. Stupid as it seemed, they had not thought of an undercover name for Lloyd to use. Luke racked his brain for a name, but he was hitting a metaphoric brick wall over and over. Seeing Dist's impatience, he blurted out the first name that came to mind. "This is my aide, erm, Lucifer Aquor. He was recently promoted from Bravo to Locrian Sergeant."

Lloyd gave a little greeting with a grin of equal size and enthusiasm. "So, who is the new guy?" Luke asked, mentally cursing. The presence of another God-General, and apparently formidable one, bode ill not only for himself and Lloyd, but for Asch and the others as well. And they had just gotten Sync out of the way, too! Was there no end to the obstacles they must overcome?

"We don't know who he is yet," Dist said, voice dripping with disdain, "and he needs a proper title besides." Strange that Van would care for something so trivial as a title for one of his pawns, especially now that he was breaking away from the Order. The scientist made his leave, mumbling something about checking up on someone, Reiner, who was perhaps one of his attendants.

"Wait," Luke clapped a hand on Dist's shoulder, effectively stopping him from leaving. "Why are you still here when Van knows you don't really work for him?" Dist's lip curled maliciously, as if he were above such questions or other foolish dilly dallying. He gave Luke an ugly glare. "He needs me for fontech, I him for replica data." The last phrase made Luke's stomach knot tightly. He released Dist, half growling as the twiggy man stalked off. He, too, merged into the waves of Oracle Knights within seconds.

"Geez, what's his problem?" Lloyd muttered under his breath, looking after Dist's retreating back darkly. Luke didn't hear him, wrapped up in his own thoughts. "Arietta," he asked, "who's Reiner?"

Arietta glanced up from her feet. She looked about the headquarters, humming aloud as she pondered. "Reiner ... he's that acolyte that Dist left the Albiore II's flightstone with. He's training to be a Locrian Sergeant in the cloister below."

"Thanks, Arietta," Luke waved a goodbye, Lloyd in tow as they themselves braved the storm of Oracle Knights all around them. Only one passageway possibly led even deeper under the cathedral, and it was the very same one that Luke and the others had taken to rescue Ion and Natalia right at war's beginning. Maneuvering through the Oracle Knights was difficult, but though they largely went about their own business, they were sure to clear a way and pay proper respect to Asch the Bloody, though the muted reverence was as nothing compared to what they might hold for Van.

Passing a few doors and corridors, Luke and Lloyd came to a set of platform floors and staircases leading down, down as if to the bottom of a well the cloister. This particular area was swarming with Oracle Knights, and unlike the ones who were harmlessly hauling luggage, these ones were armed to the teeth--swords, daggers, fonists, and all in such great numbers! All to protect the flightstone, to keep it from falling into enemy hands. If Asch and the others had come here to retrieve it, they would have fought wave after wave of these soldiers just to get to it! Luke specifically tried not to bolt down the stairs to get the job done with; thus disguised they had all the time they needed to get the flightstone and back, providing that Asch and the others kept their distance from Daath.

"So what's up?" Lloyd asked, a little crossly as he and Luke descended yet another flight of stairs. The climb down so many flights of stairs reminded him of a certain tower or two, and though this secluded cloister was nowhere near as enormous or tall and therefore had not as many stairs, the thought brought back a bitter taste of memory. Luke glanced around at the patrols, and when he judged them to be safely out of earshot, dropped his voice to a whisper. Even whispers could echo in places such as these. "A guy named Reiner down here has the Albiore's flightstone; it's needed to power the airship. If we can get it and have someone hold it here for Asch and the others, their job--and ours--will be a lot easier."

"Airship?" Lloyd repeated, brow quirked. "What, like a rheaird?" Luke stopped dead in his tracks on a stair landing, brows shooting straight upwards, jaw slack in question. "A what?" he asked, head tilted to one side, displaying his confusion. Lloyd stopped, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. He coughed, composing himself. "Ah, nothing. Something that can fly, right?" Luke slowly nodded in response, resuming his brisk walk when an Oracle patrol had turned to look.

Quickly enough they had reached Reiner's training ground at the bottom of the well, so to speak. In the middle of the concrete flooring there was a wide rectangle of dark earth, and it was at the four corners of this patch of earth that a robed acolyte, undoubtedly Reiner, prayed diligently, paying little heed to his apparent visitors. Kneeling at one corner, hands clasped to his forehead, Reiner had not moved until one of his visitors had cleared his throat. He slowly rose, looking up to see who had come all the way down to this cloister to disturb him. The purpose of the training to rank up from a Bravo to a Locrian Sergeant was to mature and grow in his seclusion, and yet people were always coming down here! First God-General Dist, then the endless patrolling of the cloister, and now this! Who was it this time? He turned, and blanched when he saw who had come.

"A-Asch the Bloody," He stammered, scurrying a step or two back. What in Lorelei and Yulia's names had he done to deserve a visit from this demon made flesh?! A visit from the Grim Reaper was preferable.

"Reiner," Luke said in Asch fashion, "it is my understanding that Dist left you with a flightstone." he tried to ignore the plain, naked fear in Reiner's eyes; was this how people in the Order saw Asch? Had Asch been doomed to obscurity and contempt the moment he had set foot within these walls? "You want it?" Reiner asked, sounding more confident than he looked. Quickly he fished it out of his robes. He hesitated. "Dist told me not to let go of it ..."

"I come under orders from the Fon Master." Luke replied quickly. It was best to get this done with, so he could have someone hold it for the others. They might be done commanding Tataroo by now, what if they were sailing to Daath this very moment? Time was of the essence. He reluctantly put a hand on the hilt of the maestro sword, though anyone who knew him knew it was a bluff--Luke was left handed. Not that Reiner knew that.

"Please, my regards to the Fon Master," Reiner deposited the flightstone into Luke's hands quite readily. Hastily he went back to his prayers, as if by resuming his sacred ritual duty the visitors would go away. He never wanted any trouble or to get roped into these ridiculous power struggles. He wanted only a steady career and, dare he wish so? A normal life.

Seeing Reiner so ill at ease, Luke turned, pocketing the flightstone. 'Twould do no good if the Oracle patrol were to see Asch the Bloody making off with the flightstone and reporting it to Dist. Dist himself was no problem, but the fontech he pit Luke and the others against was no fun to fight. Lloyd followed him, not inclined to say much. They had more walking yet to do.

Luke didn't have much to say at the moment, either. He was busy thinking about Van's actual next move, and what his response on the proverbial chess board would be.


	14. The Next Move

A/N: I am not dead! Just a little overwhelmed at the moment. My teachers thought it was a good idea to bury me up to my ears in schoolwork. And they all planned big stuff--presentations, tests, the mile run--all on Thursday! What? Hahah.

--

Ion held the flightstone in his hands, feeling the densely concentrated Third Fonons within the object. Against the cool gray of the stone there were blue and green phrases carved in Ancient Ispanian, fonic verses perhaps to grant the flightstone greater power, like the Sorcerer's Ring. It was hard to believe that a stone of this size could power an entire airship like the Albiore and perhaps more. But the aircrafts were probably equipped with fontech designed to amplify the flightstone's effect.

Ion had no problem understanding how fontech worked, even if he couldn't understand the fully complex specifics. What he had trouble understanding was why Luke was asking him to hold the flightstone for the others--Tear and company--next time they came to Daath.

"Luke," Ion said--for in the safety of his room there was no danger of being overheard; the room was soundproof to the outside hall, "why don't you just return to them yourself? Everyone's been worried sick!"

Luke scratched his now wig-less head--the aforementioned accessory had made it itchy--leaning on Ion's desk, the red wig splayed on the tabletop. It was strange to see Luke wearing Asch's uniform, though it suited him well.

"So worried as to replace me?" Luke replied bitterly.

"Luke ..." Ion said sadly, eyes downcast. "You know they meant no harm." Indeed the others meant no harm--they meant only to save Auldrant from its current crisis! And if that meant taking Asch as a passage commander in Luke's absence, then so be it. But even though Luke knew this, it must have been difficult to accept, especially since he'd already been left behind once before.

"But that doesn't matter now," Luke said in his usual tone. All bitter and coldness left him. He seemed deflated of resentment. "We still need to figure our next move."

Ion left the study to the other room. He wrapped the flightstone in a silk cloth, depositing it inside a drawer next to the bed. He returned to his study to find Luke talking quietly with his companion, Lloyd. The one who had rescued him from the cathedral, the one who had freed him from Van's cage. The one with whom Luke joined instead of his companions--his friends. Ion found it fishy that Luke couldn't trust his friends after months of traveling and fighting together, and yet he teamed up with this absolute stranger?

Ion couldn't understand what was going on in Luke's head. It must've been his imprisonment. If only he hadn't been abducted at Tataroo Valley--if only Ion had been stronger--

"Hey, Ion." Luke said, turning toward the young Fon Master. "What other passage rings are there?"

Ion stepped up to his desk, fingertips lightly ghosting over the polished oak of the top. He stared at the red wig, at the scarlet tendrils splayed over the desktop.

"There are ten planetary fon slots. Yulia made the passage rings for all of them, although some are weaker than the others. The major ones are Mt. Zaleho, Mt. Roneal, Meggiora, the Radiation Gate and the Absorption Gate. The Gates' Daathic seals have already been removed."

"We need to plan our next move," Luke repeated, addressing Lloyd rather than Ion. This irked Ion a little bit, though he doubted Luke meant to snub him. Luke grabbed the wig and placed it on his head again; Lloyd reluctantly resumed his new hairstyle. "Let's go to the library."

-

The library was filled with restricted materials pertaining to the Dawn Age, the passage rings and Sephiroth in particular. About the passage rings they learned little that they didn't already know but for the two weaker passage rings that were put in a supportive role in supporting the land under the stronger ones--one of which was right underneath Baticul.

"Y'know Luke," Lloyd said under his tower of books, "you said we needed a descendant of Yulia to operate the rings?" He pointed to a passage in one forbidden text that cited Yulia had entered her own genetic information in the passage rings' control panels.

Luke, who had been buried up to his arms in books, abruptly stopped, slapping a palm on his forehead, brow furrowed. "Damn, I did!" They had no descendant of Yulia among them. Luke drummed his fingers on his stack of leather bound volumes, thinking. There might well be other descendants of Yulia, but there was just no time--he paused.

"Teodoro," he offered somewhat weakly.

Ion almost laughed out loud at the statement. Teodoro was a good mayor and leader, but he was by no means fit to travel, let alone run around the world and do such dangerous and taxing work. Besides, Tear's brother already was in severe danger by doing what he did--to put her grandfather in the same mortal risk was very well a stab to her heart. Luke did not like seeing Tear in pain, even less to be in pain he had caused.

"The truth is," Ion began, moving the books they already skimmed back to their shelves, "you need only a Seventh Fonist or a potential one to keep the panel open. A descendant of Yulia is required only to operate the ring normally--which we won't need to do, considering we're using hyperresonance."

Luke let out a deep sigh, relieved that his mistake was not of particularly large magnitude.

"I'd offer to help--" Ion began, but Luke cut him off.

"No." He said firmly. "You already use too much strength to open the Daathic seals."

Ion assumed a mildly cross expression. He gathered books in his arms, walking over to Lloyd's spot at a table and dropping the books before Lloyd with quite the audible thud.

"I thought you'd say that." Ion brushed dust off his robes. "But Lloyd is a Seventh Fonist."

There was a heavy and profound silence as Ion's words sank into the films of dust covering books long untouched by human hands. Luke leapt from his seat, slamming his hands on the table.

"Why didn't you say so?!" He demanded, half miffed, half gleeful. Lloyd waved his arms before him as if to ward off an oncoming demon that threatened to choke him with his own large intestine before throwing him off a cliff.

"I-I've never studied much fonology," he stammered, possibly because of Luke's sudden outburst. "The most I know are the fields of fonons you taught me."

"Man, what are you a hick?" Luke asked irritably, rubbing his temples. True, he didn't have much room to talk, but even way out in the most distant corners of the country, in the most rural of places, any person worth his salt would know even basic fonology. Though now that Ion mentioned it, Lloyd did project some small amounts of Seventh Fonons, although not very many since apparently Lloyd had never used Seventh fonic artes before--not consciously, anyway. A fonist of any kind who regularly cast fonic artes would emit their fonon types at great amounts. Residue from the fonic arte leaking out the fon slots, if you would.

"All right," Luke donned a wide grin. Again he would have to teach Lloyd, but the casting of fonic artes and learning to harness the fonons' powers was more of a hands-on activity, and Lloyd had proved himself tremendously adept at learning hands-on. Luke picked up a book from the stack Ion put on the table, and upon seeing the title, he smiled. It was a copy of the same On Fonology title that Tear had given Luke in Yulia City.

The next few hours were spent with Luke and Ion tutoring Lloyd on the usage of Seventh fonic artes, healing ones to be precise. Lloyd already had a good grasp on gathering fonons and channeling them, only he hadn't used them to heal wounds before. The lessons in basic healing artes involved Luke inflicting small injuries on himself (such as scratches and paper cuts, etc) and allowing for Lloyd to heal them. The act of healing was the same, only with more fonons for larger wounds. Some Seventh Fonists were more adept at healing multiple people at once, others tended to focus best on one person at a time. It seemed Lloyd, like Natalia, was the kind of healer to do best on one person at a time.

During the little tutoring session, Ion suggested that Luke might well learn some fonic artes, too--the ones Jade used were too high of a level for him, so Luke decided, as much as he didn't want to, to learn Asch's fonic artes. He wouldn't learn them all in one sitting without any actual practice, though, but with time and persistence Luke would be able to use fonic artes. In the meantime he would keep up with his fields of fonons.

Lloyd had learned the most basic healing artes of Natalia's caliber--Heal, Recover, and Dispel. Luke would have liked for Lloyd to learn more, for he was the only healer around, but they did not have the leisure time.

"Are we done yet?" Lloyd asked irritably, healing over what felt like the millionth paper cut on Luke's hand. Paper cuts were never fun; how Luke could continuously give them to himself was beyond him.

"I think so." Luke answered, nodding. "We're gonna have to dress lightly now."

Both Lloyd and Ion shot Luke questioning looks, but the latter already had an idea what the noble meant. Luke saw the inquisition in Ion's eyes, and he nodded yes.

"We're going inside Mt. Zaleho!"


	15. The Zaleho Sephiroth

A/N: Hahah ... today I did nothing much 'cept sleep all day. And then watched the Yu-Gi-Oh and Naruto Abridged series. It was super special awesome, believe it!

--

It was nice to not have to wear the God-General uniform, and he was pretty sure Lloyd agreed with reclaiming his former outfit and hairstyle. He just had this huge, ridiculous grin plastered on his face. Even though Ion had changed, he looked no different; when Luke inquired the former replied that the robe was thinner. It wouldn't do to collapse due to heat exhaustion in the volcano.

They prepared adequately--plenty of medicines and bottles, but just as important, if not more, was the water. Water was the primary chemical compound the body used to jump start all its chemical reactions so the body would function properly. The other few Sephiroth they'd visited had been in fairly moderate climates; underestimating inside of the Zaleho volcano, even weakened to dormancy in the Outer Lands, would be fatal.

As they finished up their preparations, Lloyd had a question. "So this volcano ... how are we getting in? Are we climbing it?"

Luke stopped to consider the question, his coat and scarf lying on the table--those accessories were unneeded in the volcano. He turned to Ion, head tilted toward the right. "Are we going to climb it?"

Ion closed the door to his inner chamber, locking it. He usually never locked his room or study, but the Albiore's flightstone was in there. Losing it was not a risk they could afford. The Fon Master placed the key in one of his pockets, a small grin on his face. "Climb in through the mouth? Are you serious?"

"No harm in asking," Luke murmured, a light flush on his face. Though the volcano was dormant, lava still seeped out of it on occasion, though the Daathic citizens never worried about a flood of lava overtaking the city--the amount of lava seeping via the Sephiroth wasn't enough for an eruption.

And besides, Daath was the headquarters of the Order of Lorelei. There was no way they would build their headquarters right next door to a volcano if the Score hadn't guaranteed their safety. Though now with the Score off track, Luke often wondered when the volcano would erupt once the land was lowered. Since eruptions were caused by magma pressure under the mountain induced by tectonic activity, it would take a while until the Qliphoth solidified before the Zaleho volcano would be a dangerous threat.

"There's a teleportation fonic glyph inside the cathedral we can use to get to the volcano." Ion said. "It's in a secret passage on the upper floors."

"Secret?" Lloyd asked, brow quirked. "Why a secret passage?"

Luke snorted. "Lloyd, it's Daath. Like they needed a secret passage; people get lost enough as it is."

"Right." Ion replied, still smiling.

-

There was no one on the upper catwalk leading to additional rooms and wings. Since Luke and Lloyd weren't wearing their disguises, so much the better. Ion led the small procession, entering a spacious room full of books--another library. But unlike the library down below, this one contained titles that focused on fontech. Not just any one area of fontech--the books contained information about the largest generators to the smallest capacity core.

"Just what is all this?" Lloyd plucked a book off a shelf, flipping through it. He squinted at a passage on the page. "Hmm ... wait, what the? Fonic ... lawn mower?" He closed it and placed it on its shelf without another word.

Luke skimmed the titles on a separate bookshelf. These books didn't just range from generators to capacity cores, many of them focused solely on those technologies. Most notably, those reading about generators had ideas of how to supply energy without the use of memory particles--a difficult feat to accomplish when all civilization in the Dawn Age and prior were fueled solely with memory particles. Some about capacity cores contained documents of experiments designed to enable a fonist to channel an amount of fonons that no human could survive unscathed.

"Could these be ... ideas of replacing fonists with machines?" Luke wondered aloud, examining a book. For time immemorial fonists were at the center of civilization, in peace and war. Now, there are warships, there are even flying machines with fighting capability, but there are always fonists. They were so irreplacable that any thought of getting rid of them was considered taboo. For what reason could someone want to forgo human fonsits for a mechanic one?

Amounts of fonons no human could channel unscathed ... of course. If a machine were designed to channel and shape such fonic artes, then human fonists were useless. They were more powerful, more efficient ... but who and why would attempt these things?

Ion passed a few bookshelves, skimming books with a hand. "This room belongs to Dist and Mohs."

"Ah." Luke said, joining Ion. Dist and Mohs--now those made sense.

"But why?" Lloyd inquired, curbing a bookshelf.

That's right--Lloyd was a country boy. He didn't know much about Daath and its power struggles. Ion decided to explain. "Dist is a fonic technician--he can build fontech. And Mohs wanted to spark a war. If either Kimlasca or Malkuth had new, unprecedented weapons just as dangerous, if not more, than an artificial hyperresonance ..."

"Oh." Lloyd's shoulders slumped. "I don't get all of what you just said, but those weapons would be really powerful and all hell would break loose?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Luke nodded. "So Ion, where's this secret passage?"

There was an open book lying face down before the shelf. Ion removed it and pointed to the floor. Luke bent down, squinting. He didn't see anything for a few moments, but there was a tiny button, almost a switch. Ion stepped on it. The bookshelf beside them shook and sank into the floor, revealing, as Ion had said, a secret passage.

As they filed into the hallway, Luke thought of what they had just seen. Yeah, it made sense for Dist and Mohs to cooperate to build immense weapons of destruction to start a war--the Kaiser Dists they fought before might have been prototypes for such weapons--but there was one thing Luke didn't understand.

Why would Mohs have a secret passage with a fonic glyph leading into the heart of Mt. Zaleho?

-

The fonic glyph was just like the ones leading to Ion's room. Quick and painless, though still liable to cause motion sickness. Maybe it was because being caught in a hyperresonance that spirited him halfway across the world had him used to teleportation, but Luke didn't understand why Lloyd kept getting nauseous after every teleport. He hoped they wouldn't need to use the teleport glyphs often.

"Hey, you okay?" Luke asked, rubbing Lloyd's back as he bent, hands on his knees, catching his breath. After a while he stood, stretching his arms out, breathing deeply.

"Ugh, it's so hot." Lloyd complained, a frown etched on his face.

Luke shook his head. If Lloyd was well enough to complain, he was well enough to go on. He looked around, drinking in the surroundings. It looked like a campsite or a working field, like when archeologists or other scientists worked on their field. There were tables everywhere with paper documents scattered all over the tabletops. But what caught his eye was the monumental work of stone in the center, etched with Ancient Ispanian. He looked at the script, but it was an archaic kind--he couldn't discern much.

"What is this?" Luke asked, waving an arm to indicate the chamber. Ion walked calmly to a small bridge, regarding Luke coolly.

"Nothing of particular consequence. Let's go."

-

"Dammit!" Luke rolled to the right, ducking as the golem's fist of stone swung just inches above his head. He tried to stand up, but the golem wouldn't let him; it kept on swinging its gargantuan fists with surprising speed--if Luke got hit with that, not even Tear's best healing artes would save him. Not too far off Ion was hiding behind a rock as per Luke's instructions, and Lloyd was trying to drive his blades into the golem with little sucess.

Luke remembered that monsters such as these--ones that couldn't be beaten with normal attacks or strike artes were disposed of with fonic artes--Jade's fonic artes. Sure, Lloyd was a fledgling healer, and both he and Luke were quite adept with using fields of fonons, but with no fonist to support them, they wouldn't be able to build a field and use it before the golem got them first.

With this golem, a good attack would be one with Fourth or Third Fonons. Water was pretty scarce in a volcano--but there was air, and the air was humid. Humid air was air heavy with moisture. If only the stupid golem would stop for just three or four seconds--

Lloyd jammed a sword deep into the golem, between the stones that built it. Using the sword as leverage he leapt up on its back, trying to keep his balance as the monster, realizing what had happened, attempted to throw him off. Luke slowly rose from his crouch, watching with horror as Lloyd held onto the sword hilt for dear life--the golem was thrashing so violently.

But Luke also knew that Lloyd had just bought him time. So he stood, gathering Third Fonons--for his Fourth strike artes revolved around ice, and he needed pure, unadulterated Fourth Fonons to accomplish that. The fonons built up quickly, the field appearing as a green ring at his feet--to the untrained eye it appeared as if he were casting a Third fonic arte. And with the power he was generating, aided by his capacity core, he might well have been.

He took in the fonons, concentrating them in the fon slots of his hands. He then directed them into the blade of his short sword. He began to approach the golem. The humidity of the air was a great catalyst to the fonic strike arte he was about to perform. In order to use his fields of fonons more effectively, Tear and Jade had taught him about the occurrence of natural disasters and how people using fields of fonons could be considered conjuring a smaller version.

Such as lightning.

"Feel thunder!" Luke roared, and upon noticing Luke's approach, Lloyd yanked his sword from the golem, falling to the ground. The noble raced to the monster, who in turn raised its arms to attack. Luke raised his sword, the blade crackling with blue electricity. The humitidy of the air grated againts the charge in Luke's weapon, and like holding back a beast, Luke knew he couldn't restrain it much longer.

The moment the slash connected with the golem, a huge surge of electricity jolted through it, and Luke had to hold on for fear of being blown back by the sheer force of it. When the Lightning Tiger Blade had spent itself, the golem stood, arms slack, wobbling as it moved. Lloyd, lying on the ground behind it, scrabbled to get out of its shadow. Getting crushed by such a monster wasn't on his to-do list.

The golem, though considerably weakened, had no intention of giving up. It wobbled, gaining speed, toward Luke. He'd have no time to reproduce a Lightning Tiger Blade of that magnitude, so Luke had to bite the bullet, charging in with what little Third Fonons he could snag on the way--

"Sonic thrust!" Luke shouted against the whooshing sound of the golem's arms. They missed, as they couldn't pull in toward the torso, where Luke thrust his blade. Third Fonons ripped through the rock, cracking the stone. Lloyd circled behind the golem, repeating Luke's attack. The golem shuddered, Third Fonons jolting through it violently. Bits and pieces of it had begun to crumble. When its legs began to give way, Luke and Lloyd ducked out, leaping back a respectful distance.

The cross thrust had done the trick. Within moments the golem had collapsed in a heap of inanimate rock.

Luke heaved a sigh, falling down on his rear. He just sat there, regaining his breath. He dug out a canteen from his bag, popping it open and taking a swig of water. It was warm by now, but water was water; there was no use complaining. Lloyd approached, also sipping from his own canteen.

"You okay?"

Luke nodded, moving his arms to show his point--but then froze, a hand flying to his shoulder. "Ah!"

"Strained it?" Lloyd asked, and Luke merely nodded in reply. The brunette frowned. "All I've done were flesh wounds. Muscle strain is different."

"Okay." Luke said, shrugging. "We can go on, and the next time something that big comes up, my arm'll go out and we'll get horrendously injured or killed. Awesome."

Lloyd pouted, brow knit crossly. "I never said I wouldn't heal it! It's just ... different than huge paper cuts, all right?"

"I'm just kidding," Luke protested.

"Having fun?" Ion asked as he joined them, abandoning his rock fort. Lloyd nodded as he put his hands on Luke's shoulder, glowing the whitish green of healing artes. It took a while, but Lloyd had done a good job of healing the shoulder. Luke experimentally moved his arm--his shoulder was feeling as good as new.

"Thanks," he said, picking up his sword and sheathing it.

"It's a bit weird." Lloyd said abruptly. When Luke and Ion shot him inquisitive looks, he said, "Well, it's just that ... up 'til now, there was always someone else healing me."

"Always?" Luke repeated.

Lloyd's frown grew wider, his garnet eyes wandering to the collapsed golem. "I had a friend who can use healing artes. More than one, actually."

"Really?" Luke replied, a brow quirked. Seventh Fonists were supposed to be rare--the only places where one could find them in abundance were the Church of the Order of Lorelei and the armies of Kimlasca, Malkuth, and Daath. Since healers were in such high demands for military organizations, anyone discovered to be a Seventh Fonist was drafted immediately. Did Lloyd know people in the Order's Church, or in any of the armies?

Lloyd mutely nodded and said nothing more on the subject.

-

They climbed up and down the inner chambers of the volcano, turning tunnels and corridors, fighting the occasional monster. Who knew so many creatures could survive in such a place? Especially the snake derivants that lived here--snakes were cold-blooded. So what in the name of Efreet were snakes doing in a place where they would normally overheat and die? After killing a slew of them, Ion pointed out the legs the reptiles possessed. At first Luke thought it sparse evidence. Alligators and crocodiles had legs, and they still were cold-blooded. Then Ion had said that during the battles, the snakes had quick, agile movements, able to keep up their split second reactions for longer than reptiles should. They were in fact warm-blooded.

"That's kind of weird." Lloyd said, looking at the bodies of the snake creatures.

"There are species of viper that give birth to live young." Ion replied.

Lloyd cringed, stepping away from the snake corpses. "Really? Eww ..."

Luke rolled his eyes.

It must've been only an hour or an hour and a half at most, but it felt as if it'd been a day or more before they came across what they wanted most--in the wall of igneous rock there was the oval door of many layers, glowing a yellow-green. The Daathic seal that led the way into the Sephiroth. Ion approached it, placing his palms flat on it as if he were preparing a Score reading. Seventh Fonons surged around Ion, drawn to him like magnets. It wasn't surprising, considering they stood right on the Sephiroth's doorstep. Layers of the seal disappeared, fading into nothingness. Ion fell to his knees, huffing for breath.

Luke rushed to his side. He took one of Ion's arms, draping it about his shoulders. He gently moved Ion from the door, sitting him down to lean against the rock well. Luke offered Ion a canteen of water, which the latter accepted gratefully. He looked aft to the gaping dark hole where the Daathic seal used to be. After Ion recovered, they would go inside and operate the passage ring--the first one Luke would operate since Tataroo. He stood, surveying their surroundings. It didn't look as though anything--monsters, Oracle soldiers or otherwise--had followed them up to this point. Luke blinked, turning around a complete 360.

"Hey, Ion ... where's Lloyd?"

-

The cliff was sheer, and ledge on which he was walking narrow--he walked with his back pressed against the rough stone wall behind him lest he accidentally fall to the ominous lake of lava spewing up sparks below. Ever since he had first arrived at Daath, the connection between him and Origin gradually became weaker--they could no longer exchange words, not without the sword. But Origin's power he could still sense, and Origin surely tugged him in the right direction. Whatever this other Spirit that hailed Origin for help, it must need a helluva lot of help to call on Origin's champion. Origin's power never ceased to amaze him; even so far away its power could still reach. Then again, this was the Spirit that prevailed over time and space.

He crossed the cliff, climbing another path that inclined upward. The little trickle of power he sensed steadily grew stronger as he climbed, but even all the trickles combined could not reproduce the former power of the sword. That must mean it'd split during the descent. And if the fonology Luke had taught him was indeed the way of the world, then this was where one half of the sword must be.

-

Ion coughed; Luke rubbed his back as he swallowed more water. He breathed deeply before he answered. "He was ... standing over there ..." He pointed in the direction of an opening opposite where they were, the mouth of a cavern. Luke clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

"Ion, you go to the passage ring. It's probably safer by the Sephiroth." Then, to himself in an undertone, "Dammit, we don't have time for detours!"

Ion nodded, using the rock wall as leverage to pull himself up. Instantly Luke felt a pang of guilt--Ion was so weakened after using Daathic fonic artes he couldn't even stand of his own accord! He waited until Ion had hobbled inside the passage ring before he stalked off to the cavern. It was pretty far off from the entrance of the Sephiroth, quite out of the way. Angrily Luke sliced through a pair of cave bats that emerged from the cavern. What was so intriguing that Lloyd had to run off?

Luke was stung by the sheer hypocrisy of it--Lloyd was the one that maintained splitting up at all was a bad idea, and yet what did he do?

The mouth of the cavern was sunk into the ground, as if it had been ripped open by an earthquake or burrowed by a monster of considerable size. The ground was also loose around the edge of the opening. Carefully Luke lowered himself into the cavern, his fingers scraping rough rock on either side of the crude tunnel. With a surprised yelp Luke lost his footing, falling to the ground with an audible thud.

"Oww ..." Luke rubbed his sore backside, throwing a dirty glare at the cave behind him. With a sigh he stood, looking around. Lakes of boiling lava swirled far below, steaming and hissing as it threw up sparks and swelled in bubbles. Luke swallowed the lump in his throat, stepping toward the sheer rock wall. The cliffs and ledges here were rather narrow for his liking, so there was no point taking chances.

Carefully Luke made his way along the cliff ledge, coming to an upward incline to a higher cliff. Luke's jaw went slack when he saw what awaited him there.

There was Lloyd, kneeling at the edge, frantically throwing his head left and right. His face was screwed up in distraught, though it'd been nothing like Luke had seen before. Not even when Lloyd had been beating him back in Sheridan, he had never seen Lloyd like this. Finally, frustrated, Lloyd slammed a fist to the ground, growling hoarsely.

"It should be here ..." It was nothing more than a ghost of a whisper, but Luke heard it loud and clear. He marched up to Lloyd, clearing his throat loudly.

"What should be here?"

Lloyd gave a small gasp, whirling around to see Luke towering over him, arms folded, brow knit crossly, and a deep frown engraved on his face. Still kneeling, Lloyd averted his gaze to the lake of roiling lava below, his face flushed in embarrassment. Luke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, a newly emerging habit of his.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought we agreed not to split up!"

Lloyd rose to his feet, stubbornly refusing to make eye contact. He shoved his hands in his pockets, head hanging.

"Doesn't matter now." He mumbled, nearly inaudibly. "Let's go back." He half jogged toward the cavern opening from whence he had come. Luke followed, tilted his head, frowning. He wished Lloyd would stop making excuses and start making sense.

-

It was significantly cooler in the Sephiroth than in the rest of the volcano, something that Luke, Lloyd, and Ion were eternally grateful for. Memory particles surged up the passage ring, the fon machine itself glowing with glyphs and insignias, Yulia's legacy. They stood before the ring, craning their necks at the diagram above that depicted the other Sephiroth and their systems.

Tataroo Valley's passage ring had commands engraved in Ancient Ispanian--commands in regards to lowering the land. Luke gulped, his mouth so dry it felt as though his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. Finally, he turned to Lloyd. Lloyd walked forward, toward the closed pedastal. It didn't open immediately; no surprise since Lloyd wasn't a descendant of Yulia. He placed both hands on the pedastal, calling Seventh Fonons to him. The pedastal opened slowly, and the longer Lloyd worked it, the more strained he was becoming. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, a sign of the strength the act of just opening it required. Once it was open fully, Lloyd looked at Luke, nodding.

Luke nodded in turn, drawing a deep breath. He held up his hands toward the ring, Seventh Fonons coming to him easily, his hands glowing gold as the fonons resonated. On the Zaleho ring above he carved commands following up the ones at Tataroo--lower the land, keep land afloat, do not move until the command is given at the Radiation Gate.

As he finished writing the code in the fonic language--for he was still not fluent enough in Ancient Ispanian to command with it--Lloyd sighed, abruptly releasing the pedastal. Luke turned, brow quirked in question. Lloyd was bent over again, hands on his knees, panting for breath.

"Are you all right?" Luke asked as he approached, bending to Lloyd's eye level. Lloyd nodded, though he still panted as if he had just run a marathon through the volcano. Luke frowned, standing up straight. He gave a sideways look at the passage ring. So it wasn't just that Tear had been overworking herself--Lloyd had been exhausted, too. Or maybe it really was just stress and fatigue; they had been running through a volcano, after all. Luke shrugged; there was just no way of knowing.

"I wonder."

Luke turned around. Ion stepped forward, eyes locked on the passage ring. "Are we actually slowing the others down if they come to rings we already operated?"

Luke gazed up at the passage ring, staring at Asch's handiwork. His original's handwriting was much better than his own. He shook his head. "They'll know which ones to skip." He elaborated no further--the Sephiroth were connected.

"But they can't get there." Lloyd coughed, but he managed to stand up straight, though he still was breathing heavily and sweating. He took a small step, swaying from dizziness. "Ion's the only one who can open the seals."

Luke nodded in agreement; only Fon Masters of the Order of Lorelei could open the seals, and Ion couldn't be in two places at once. That left but one course of action, one he was prepared for, but he didn't like it one bit. Nor would Ion or Luke, given how much danger they'd been in doing it just once before.

"Ion, you'll have to wait for the others in Daath. When you return, we'll head for the next Sephiroth."

"Which one?" Ion asked. He wanted to know which one they'd be heading toward next. Luke dug in his bag, withdrawing a map of Auldrant. He unrolled it, putting it on the ground. Pen in hand, he began circling the areas in which the other Sephiroth would be. At every Sephiroth already commanded--or inoperable--he placed an "X" in the circle.

"Okay, Akzeriuth's inoperable, they already got Tataroo, and we got Zaleho ..." he murmured to himself. "And the Zao Ruins. That means there are four Sephiroth left, including the Absorption and Radiation Gates."

Ion and Lloyd bent over the map. The four Sephiroth left were as followed--one on Radessia, one on Sylvana, and the Gates. The Gates would be left for last, as the Radiation Gate would be the one where the command to lower all the land would be given. There was one Sephiroth for Asch and the others, one for Luke. They had to make sure they wouldn't head for the same Sephiroth at the same time.

"How about ... this one?" Lloyd pointed, a finger on the circle encompassing the Sylvana continent, the snowy world where Keterburg resided. Luke mentally groaned. First they trudged through an impossibly hot volcano, next they were going to trudge through a frozen tundra? Fun, fun.

"Mt. Roneal?" Ion asked. "I don't see a problem with that. That means Asch and the others will have to go for the one in Meggiora Highlands."

Luke nodded, rolling up the map, stowing it away in his bag. "Okay. In the meantime, me and Lloyd will tail the God-Generals and maybe slow them down if we can."

They began walking toward the passage ring entrance. Luke fell into step beside Ion, a small smile on his face. He put a hand on Ion's shoulder. "Ion, do me a favor?" His voice was low, as if he was reluctant.

"What is it?" From the apprehension in his voice and the way his brow was furrowed, Luke knew Ion was worried. He had every right to be, even more so with what the noble was going to ask.

"Will you ... keep quiet about me?"

"Luke, no!" Ion protested, face screwed up in pain. "You want me to pretend I've never seen you?" The usually demure Fon Master's voice had risen to a shout that echoed throughout the passage ring. "They're all worried; do you know how long it's been since they last saw you?!"

"Month or more, give or take," Luke answered evasively, refusing to make eye contact--a trait that was swiftly becoming a bad habit of his.

"Luke, don't make me do this." Ion hung his head, his vision filled with the fiery stone etched with glowing white glyphs. His voice became soft, meek. "Can I at least tell them you're all right?"

Luke shrugged noncommittally, though by his expression Ion clearly saw Luke wanted otherwise. Finally, the young Fon Master heaved a deep sigh.

"Fine, I won't." He said, turning away from Luke, spitting the words like venom. "Let you be dead for all they know!"

Seething with a rage none had ever seen, Ion stalked out of the passage ring, not bothering to look after Luke. The noble stood, frowing deeply. Beside him, Lloyd narrowed his eyes, betraying the fact he was annoyed, perhaps angry.

"Luke, that was uncalled for." For the Fon Master or for the others, Luke wasn't sure.

"They have enough on their plates already. They don't need to worry." It was a pathetic excuse, but that was the best way to describe this irrational need to stay away from the others.

Out of sight, after all, was out of mind.


	16. In The Lion's Den

A/N: In random news, my sister, mom, and I went to take a gun safety course and learn how to shoot. We used an indoor range with slow fire targets with 22mm ammo. I fired a revolver and two semi-automatics with scopes. Bang bang!

--

Daath was always had a thick atmosphere of tensity, but it was ten times worse in the cathedral, and even harder to handle in the Fon Master's chambers when an angry Ion stood not five feet away. It'd been a good two hours since they commanded the Zaleho passage ring, and yet the young leader was still stoking up such a rage that it had his visitors on their toes during the whole time they prepared for their next ordeal: tailing the God-Generals and living to tell the tale.

Stalking the God-Generals meant going back into Daathic disguise, and as Luke and Lloyd changed clothes, Ion said not one word to the former. Understandable, Luke thought not without a pang of pain as he shoved his own coat and clothes in his travel bag. The God-General garb he wore already; the long-hair wig clenched in his hand.

Lloyd ruefully brushed his hair down, sweeping bangs covering half his face, though ti took a fair bit of time to keep it down. A sleeve of his red jacket hung out of his bag, not very conspicuous by itself, but they were heading into God-General territory, and with that lot they could not be too careful. Lloyd tried shoving the sleeve into the bag, but the bag was so inefficiently packed it proved nearly impossible. Instead, he merely shrugged his shoulders and gave up for the time being.

Luke combed his hair back, tying it into a small tail at the nape of his neck. He placed the wig on the crown of his head, tucking stray strands of his own hair under it. Pins helped it to stay in place. To be a convincing Asch, he had to not only act the part, but look the part as well. 'Twould be a shame if he was found out only because he hadn't put the wig on properly. Reluctantly he swapped his short sword the maestro blade, belting it to his left side as Asch would wear it; as a right-handed swordsman would.

He lifted his bag and cringed--heavy and unwieldy, unsightly, bulged, definitely not good for traveling, to say nothing of traveling as a God-General. He never had been very good at packing the best and right ways for comfort and efficiency; Tear or Guy would always get frustrated with his lousy attempts and do it themselves. Luke up ended his bag and tried packing it over--with results no better than before.

Without a word Ion snatched the bag away from Luke, nabbing Lloyd's while he was at it. He emptied the luggage, untangling the jumbled clothing and folded them, piling them neatly. He placed them at the bottom of the bags, food, water, medicine and other supplies going atop the garments. Thusly he made the most of space and hid the change in apparel that would give away their owners' identities. Ion liked to think the God-Generals too arrogant to consider rifling through someone's personal belongings (especially those supposedly belonging to Asch the Bloody), but then again he had liked to think they wouldn't betray the Order of Lorelei.

Ion handed the bags back to their respective owners, leaving his companions speechless for a few moments.

"Thanks," Luke said upon receiving his luggage. "Er, where did you ... ?"

"Anise," Ion said automatically. A small smile crept upon his face, at least if a jumble of jangling movements of the lips upward counted as such. "She wouldn't let me get away with badly packed luggage."

Silence bloomed, a beautiful blossom--and pretty flowers had thorns. But he who would not brave the thorns should not crave the blossom.

Luke knew he had hurt Ion by asking him to feign ignorance regarding his whereabouts and condition as living or dead, maimed or whole, sick or healthy. He knew there was seldom chance of being forgiven, if anyone ever could forgive him for asking such a thing of Ion. But Luke also knew that forgiveness would not erase his past. It would not erase his mistakes. All he could do was press on and do what he could, to do what was right and in as speedily a manner as possible, as was healthy.

But he couldn't stand there seeing Ion so devastated and so angry. So he risked the thorns and took a step forward, pulling Ion in a one-armed embrace.

"I'm sorry," Luke said. "This must be hard on you."

Ion belatedly returned the hug, somewhat awkwardly--had he never been hugged before? With someone like Anise always around him, no doubt he'd been subject to multiple tackle-hugs. Then again, maybe tackle-hugs had been the only kind of hugs he'd known until now.

"Good luck." Ion replied. His voice took a resolute, firm tone. "And make sure you come back safe!"

Luke nodded as he stepped back, breaking the hug. He smiled, ruffling Ion's hair.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine!"

--

Although it had tied rather nicely into his plans, Luke had not at all been expecting to be found by a miss Arietta the Wild upon his stepping into Daath's streets. The girl apparently had been wandering around with posthaste trying to find him--or rather, to find Asch the Bloody.

"Asch!" Arietta chirped, out of breath. But she was smiling. "We gotta go! Van's got something to tell us at Belkend!"

"Belkend?" Luke began, but Arietta merely grabbed his arm and half-dragged him toward the city gates. She sure was strong for a thirteen-year-old girl.

Apparently there were multiple perks as a God-General--they needn't go to Daath Bay on foot. Arietta hired a pair of horses for Luke and Lloyd, hailing her liger brother for herself. The liger, naturally, bounded far ahead of the horses on the road, but Luke was perfectly fine with that. He and Lloyd were already pushing their mounts at a hard gallop; any faster would endanger the horses and by extension their riders.

Riding horses was one of the first things Luke learned after his "kidnapping." Kimlasca began as a warlike people that fought astride horses--a Kimlascan who couldn't ride was like a Malkuthian who couldn't cast fonic artes; a monumental embarrassment. As a result of the riding lessons as rigorous as the swordsmanship training, Luke could ride even the wildest of horses. His chocolate brown mare was quite tame, though.

Lloyd was doing very well for a country boy. Few rural homesteads required horses to run it, unless said homestead was a ranch that rounded up, tamed, bred, and dealt horses, wild and domesticated alike for its living.

Ranches like that were rare in Kimlasca these days. Baticul's base level had swallowed up many rural areas of the Aberria continent, and with Belkend taking up the other end, the only place for rural living was Inista Marsh. Because of the harsh conditions and the savage behemoth dwelling there, that portion of Kimlasca was for the most part uninhabited by people. And Malkuthians seldom took to horseback riding.

So where had Lloyd learned to ride?

"Hey," Luke called, slowing his mare to a brisk gait. Lloyd followed suit, his own steel grey appaloosa mare having no trouble keeping up. "Where'd you learn to ride?"

At this Lloyd cracked a grin, as if remembering something humorous. "We never had a horse, but my dad had me learn to ride a ... steed of some kind. Ha ha! Noishe would never put up with something like a bridle, so he just bit an end of a rope until he could tell where I wanted to go."

Ah. That explained the funny way Lloyd held the reins. But the way you held them didn't particularly affect how well you rode, so long as you pulled in the right direction.

"But a horse is way different than Noishe," Lloyd added as an afterthought.

Luke decided to leave it alone--Daath Bay was upon them.

--

Unlike when Luke and Lloyd escaped the city of Daath, the harbor was now chock full of Oracle Knights, those leaving the Order of Lorelei in order to follow Van. The commercial ships were forced out of the harbor to allow ships--combative and non-combative alike--carrying the knights to sail. Arietta was waiting patiently at the docks. As God-Generals, she and "Asch" got top priority aboard a vessel. Unlike the church folk in the cathedral that shrunk away from "Asch's" presence, the Oracle Knights proudly saluted him--and his help in the valiant cause of saving the world from Yulia's Score. Luke had to keep his eyes fixed on the stern of the ship he was boarding--a vehicle dubbed the _Devlin._

Arietta led the way up the gangplank, waiting on deck. Luke stood at the edge of the dock, uncertainty bubbling within. All those people who truly believed in Van and his vision. These people were willing to fight and die for Vandesdelca. They had yet to realize that they were mere pawns for their so-called great leader, that they would be thrown away like so much refuse. They were just being used.

A hand clapped on his shoulder. Luke turned to see Lloyd, brow knit, eyes concerned. Despite hardly knowing Luke, Lloyd was willing to fight--and die--for their cause. He had proved that much already by saving Luke's life more than once over.

The entire world and its ways of life were at stake. Van's movement had caught the globe in a current--one that its people could neither see nor feel. Luke and the others--all of them--merely swam against it.

Luke climbed up the gangplank.

--

No matter how many times he visited Belkend, Luke could never get used to it. It was so ... mechanical. There were hardly any people around, and those who were weren't ordinary citizens--they were scientists, researchers, people filling in a specific niche of this community, rather like a colony of ants or bees. The whirring of fontech here was different than in Sheridan. In Sheridan there had been a kind of affability to that noise, but here it was so ... cold. There wasn't any sunlight, either. Thick grey clouds always hung above Belkend, shutting out the light, encasing the city in a perpetual winter.

Luke heaved a sigh at the city gates, Arietta and Lloyd flanking him. Arietta gave him an understanding look.

"Belkend is your father's land, right? Coming here must be painful, to be reminded of someone as barbaric as the duke." Her voice seethed, dripping venom when she spoke of Duke Fabre. Van hated the Fabre family on Guy's behalf, and here Arietta spat acid on the Duke for Van's behalf. Van must have done much for Arietta, to have her speak so highly of him and be indignant for him.

Luke wouldn't lie, what the duke did certainly was barbaric--to have slaughtered an entire family unnecessarily, even if it was war! But visiting Belkend did not remind Luke of his father.

It reminded him of Asch.

Asch had endured painful--physically and emotionally--experiments, for the promise of power that was hyperresonance. Belkend and its grey skies, mechanical industrious people, and cold, indifferent atmosphere--if Asch were to be a city, Belkend would be it.

"It _is_ painful ... " Luke murmured, unaware if Arietta could hear the reply.

Arietta nearly skipped ahead of them on the streets--she was excited. "Van wants to meet us in his office!" She chirped, dashing toward the research complex.

Luke's mouth went dry. Van? Van wanted to see Arietta with _Asch? _This certainly did not bode well. Lloyd caught the scent of the smoke. Where there was smoke ...

"Uh, didn't you say that Van could, uh, tell the difference between you and Asch?"

Luke slowly nodded, fists clenched tightly.

"Yeah, but if I don't show up ... "

"Van'll be suspicious." Lloyd finished, voice apprehensive.

Had Van already been aware of "Asch's" return when reports told him of it? Did he doubt that the one that entered his midst truly was the original Luke? Luke's jaw locked just thinking about it.

Nevertheless he forced one foot before the other, following Arietta's trail toward the complex of research laboratories. In the labs, everyone bought the disguise--in fact, they seemed quite unconcerned with it, as if the presence of a God-General meant nothing to them so long as they could continue their work.

Arietta was already at Van's office. The room changed little between the time Luke first visited it and now. The shelves were still lined with books that long since collected a film of dust and so did the desk on its otherwise pristine surface. Just as the Oracle Knights had no use for Daath, Van no longer had need of this building--he was preparing to leave it.

Arietta stood before the desk, hugging her doll, rocking back and forth on her heels, like a child waiting for some kind of treat.

Luke shut the door behind him. Lloyd was refused entry by the Oracle guards posted at the door. Only those of Locrian Colonel rank or higher could enter the office unless Van specified otherwise. Lloyd had been mightily put off but obeyed.

Luke wished Lloyd could have been in the office--not eight feet away was the man who planned to put all of Auldrant into chaos and destruction. The man who would not think twice of killing Luke should he be discovered.

"Pleased you could attend," Van said amiably, directing the comment at "Asch" rather than his younger subordinate. It was as if Van had not really been expecting Asch to come at his call. "The other God-Generals know this already, but this is special news regarding Arietta's home--or what would have been her home if not for the Hod War." He ended on a poisonous note. Luke said nothing, jaw set, fists clenched.

Van continued, placing a hand on the desk. "Our replication facilities will be completed soon. A few more months should suffice if everything goes well." He turned to face Arietta, the child God-General raised by monsters in the wilderness. "Your birthplace was the Isle of Feres, an island across from Hod in the same archipelago. It was completely flooded from the effects of the hyperresonance that destroyed Hod--namely a huge tidal wave."

"B-but you can bring it back!" Arietta spattered. "Right?"

Van nodded, quitting his leaning on the desk. "Just some more time, that's all we need--and once the Isle of Feres is raised, we can even bring back your family, too."

Arietta's face bloomed into an expression of pure unadulterated childhood bliss. The family and home she had been robbed of before she could even speak would return to her--exactly as it had been.

The notion made Luke physically sick. Replicas of land and buildings may act exactly as their originals had and should, but replications of animals and people could not. Even though they possessed the physical appearances of their originals, they did not have the memories or personalities. Fomicry didn't work the way Arietta and Van were expecting. Fomicry couldn't resurrect the dead.

For the first time Luke felt he understood some small measure of Jade's feelings on that subject--but more so Guy's. This was why Guy refused to join Van--Guy knew that replicating his family would not bring them back.

Hod--and the Isle of Feres--was gone.

"Is that all?" Luke asked, imitating Asch's voice perfectly. It was hoarse, a battle-hardened sound. "There was nothing else to talk about?"

Van quirked a brow. "Since you ask, then ... before, you decided to leave. Why now come back?"

Luke froze. He didn't know Asch's deepest, innermost thoughts, or what words might have been shared between Asch and Van. But Asch never liked being driven into a corner, so--

"Why should it matter so long as I'm helping you?"

Luke refrained from saying that Van wanted Asch only for his hyperresonance, although that was undoubtedly the naked truth. If he was out of line, Van may well discover the mouse that had crawled into the lion's den. Van closed his eyes, a peaceful expression on his face.

"All too true," he said softly. He opened his eyes, those orbs of winter frost fixed on Luke. Once upon a time those eyes looked amiably to Luke, just as they were now on "Asch."

"I'm just glad you're helping me, Asch."

"Right," Luke replied, a bit uneasily. He made toward the door, stopped. He considered asking Van something, but decided against it. Swiftly he made his leave.

Lloyd was leaning on the wall, arms folded over his chest. He was staring sullenly at the floor, blowing so that his bangs flew up. At the sight of Luke he brightened up, falling into step beside him as the navigated the labs toward the exit.

"So what'd he say?"

"His replication facilities would be completed soon ... " Luke recited, narrowing his eyes as the sunlight--what scant amounts of it--shone upon their vacating the building. "But where could he keep something that can replicate entire islands? Those machines must be huge; how can he keep those secret?"

Lloyd shrugged. They turned a street corner, heading toward the inn. "What Sephiroth is he gonna mess with next?" He asked curiously.

Luke halted, gritting his teeth. "I was going to ask, but I dunno if Asch knows that already or not." He heaved a sigh, massaging his temples. Infiltrating the enemy and being a convincing one their own produced a large amount of stress, perhaps even more so than merely escaping the enemy's fangs. Before, he had room to run. Now he was in the lion's den. He drew a deep breath.

"We'll ask one of the God-Generals later, I guess. Maybe Arietta. I don't know."

Lloyd pointed to the inn, practically the only building not emitting strange fontech noise. "Why don't we just hit the hay for now? We can worry about it in the morning."

Luke nodded in agreement. He was so tired.


	17. The Ardent

A/N: School is out, summer is here! Yay. Best of all, my math final wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. If all goes well, I'll be able to go to the next math level! ... Which I can't really say I'm happy about. Oh, well.

--

Luke had not really wanted to get up early that morning, but God-Generals did not sleep in. It was before first light, the early morning sky still dark but progressively lightening, what little of the sunlight could reach Belkend. The clock read 5:45 AM. And Lloyd was one hell of a heavy sleeper.

Luke had just finished the morning cleanliness ritual, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, already he wore the God-General uniform. The clock read 6:05 AM. Lloyd had not stirred, still sleeping quite soundly under a mountain of blankets and pillows. Luke had not even been aware so many pillows and blankets were even in their inn room. By "soundly" Luke meant "loudly"--the other young man was snoring quite noisily, and drool pooled to one side of his mouth. Luke had to stop and stare. _This_ was the guy that saved him in Daath? Bloody hell.

Luke strode over to the window, yanking the beige curtains back. The sun had not yet risen, but the horizon was already aflame with gold. Lloyd stirred, turning over so his back was to the window, where scant amounts of sunlight had trickled in the room. Luke glared. "Hey." He grabbed a pillow, striking the sleeping body on the bed. Lloyd groaned, obviously not wanting to get up. Luke hit him again with the pillow, bits of feathery fluff flying out the pillow case.

"Mmph!" Lloyd grunted through the pillow. "Five more minutes, Professor Sage ... Dun wanna study ..."

A vein throbbed in Luke's temple. In lieu of smothering his companion with the pillow, he shook the half-asleep person, calling, "Lloyd Irving, wake up! Lloyd!" He at this point abandoned the pillow and roughly shook Lloyd. Finally Lloyd's eyes opened, and he drowsily pulled Luke's hands off his shirt.

"Hurry up!" Luke snapped, slicking his wet hair back, carefully putting the red wig in place. Thusly irritated, he looked scarily like the person he aimed to imitate. The clock read 6:55 AM. The sun had begun to rise, gold light spilling life into everything it touched.

Lloyd dragged his bag with him into the bathroom, still quite groggy. Luke had to be fair--this wasn't exactly easy on Lloyd, either; it was natural for the guy to feel stressed. Being constantly on the move didn't help, either. The water ran through the pipes in the wall, first at a torrential noise, then a lighter one as the shower started. Mere minutes later Lloyd emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed as a locrian sergeant, his brown hair a sopping, dripping, mess. He grabbed a comb, raking it through his hair, first for his usual hairstyle, then he remembered he was supposed to be disguised. Grumpily he rearranged his hairdo.

"You ready?" Luke called from the doorway, strapping the maestro sword on his belt as Asch wore his. Lloyd impatiently nodded, waving his hand dismissively, to signify he'd be ready shortly.

Luke heaved a sigh as he opened the door, stepping over the threshold.

The clock read 7:15 AM.

--

Yesterday Luke had been apprehensive about asking Van which passage ring he was going to operate next. But if Luke didn't know that, he could not predict Van's next move, and thusly would be unable to effectively counter it. Van had always had the first strike, whether he was training Luke or in an actual battle. Akzeriuth was a painful example of the man's initiative. This time, Luke would strike first.

He made his way down the street, the cool morning air brisk. The city of Belkend was oddly quiet this early, as if its scientist residents had entered cold sleep as another experiment. The city of Belkend was eerie, lifeless. The streets were empty, the fon machines irreparably silent. Why was Belkend like this? It certainly wasn't when Luke had been here before.

No, Luke thought with a shiver, no matter how odd the scientist residents seemed, they were human. Like any other human, they needed to eat, to sleep, rest and refuel before continuing their work. They couldn't work all the time. And the fon machines couldn't continuously run, either, or they would break down. Though not alive, they were far from inanimate, and needed to be maintained. He was just being overly imaginative, that was all.

Despite the ungodly hour, the laboratory complex had its lights on, the early bird researchers set to their day's work already. Luke allowed himself in the lab. The scientists said nothing as he made his way through the lab, bent over their tables and equipment. Even though one supposedly needed special permission to enter the replication labs, Luke suspected its workers didn't care much.

He came to the hall where Van's office was. He honestly didn't know if the Commandant would be here, or if he would answer any questions. But it was worth a shot. Luke stepped forward, knuckles poised to gently rap on the door--he stopped, the back of his fingers barely touching the cold metal of the door. Voices from the other side piqued his curiosity. Quietly he pressed an ear to the door.

"--far they've been quite adept at getting in our way." Legretta was saying on the other side of the door, quite irritably.

There was a tapping noise, slow and steady on a surface. Someone was probably tapping a finger on the desk or another such surface. "So they have." Van replied monotonously. "You haven't seen the replica and his accomplice?"

Luke's throat hitched, mouth dry. Oh, so all of a sudden he had an accomplice! Like he and Lloyd had committed some crime or something! The very notion was enough to make Luke's blood boil. Yes, Luke had accepted that he was a criminal long ago, but just because Lloyd had rescued him from the hellhole he had been cast in, didn't mean he was a criminal! Lloyd was ... innocent.

"Not since Sheridan." Legretta supplied, cutting off Luke's train of thought. Her tone became acidic, obvious with jealousy. "Cantabile left them alive."

"No matter," Van replied. "If all else fails, we'll take them down at Mt. Roneal." Luke grit his teeth, his throat tight, thinking. Mt. Roneal--that was the Sephiroth Luke and Lloyd planned to operate next! If the God-Generals were going to converge there, fighting them altogether was out of the question, especially in dangerous terrain like the Sylvana continent. That left but way to operate Mt. Roneal--to be disguised as they were now. A small smirk pulled at Luke's lips. Though this was working out to his advantage, said advantage would be lost if Van found them out.

"Asch is behaving rather ... strangely."

Luke's heart hammered against his ribcage, threatening to give him away if his rattled breathing didn't.

"Shall I interrogate him?" Legretta offered, somehow managing not to sound eager. Anything for Van, whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, however he wanted it done.

"No. I've something in mind."

Maybe it was the way Van said it, or perhaps the words themselves he spoke, but Luke knew it was time to leave.

--

The clock read 7:40 AM. Lloyd had just finished getting dressed in the locrian sergeant uniform, polishing off the last of his croissant when the door abruptly slammed open. Lloyd whirled around, going for his sword--when with a relieved sigh he saw it was Luke. Panting as if from a marathon, Luke began tearing the place apart, hurriedly packing up belongings. He thrust Lloyd's bag into its owner's arms, frantically closing up his own.

"What's up?" Lloyd asked, still a big groggy even after being awake for nearly an hour and a half.

"We gotta go to Daath." Luke said, double checking the room to make sure they didn't leave anything behind, least of all anything that might point toward their identities.

"What?" Lloyd repeated incredulously. They weren't supposed to go to Daath until Ion returned there, and he said so. To this Luke replied, "We have to get to Mt. Roneal. The God-Generals are planning to guard it. It'll be easier just to infiltrate before they catch onto us." Luke didn't plan on having to fight each and every God-General to get to a passage ring, and he doubted that Asch and the others would, even if they were capable of taking on multiple officers.

They had already fought the God-Generals several times before, true--but they had fought in numbers no larger than pairs, and even four-on-two those fights had been tough. They had also been fought in more moderate climates, not extreme ones. In Sylvana not only would it be cold, but there was slippery snow and ice all over, and the dangers of blizzards and avalanches were always imminent.

And then there was the matter of which God-Generals decided to partner up. A chill ran down Luke's spine when he thought of the Tataroo ambush--Legretta and Sync working together. Granted, Sync was dead now, but there was the new God-General, not to mention Cantabile. Luke didn't know who the new God-General was, or how much of a talented fighter he or she might be.

And to fight any of the God-Generals on Mt. Roneal's slopes spelled certain doom.

Within ten minutes the two swordsmen were ready to go and they left for Port Belkend was all due haste. Though they were disguised, Luke didn't want to take any chances, not with Van suspecting him, so they went quickly as they could on foot, off the main road. By cutting cross country, they would actually be making better time, provided they didn't run into too many monsters. Monsters were dangerous, yes, but getting caught by Van was downright disastrous.

It was late morning by the time they arrived at Port Belkend, this portion of the city getting busier as the sun climbed higher. But this business, like in the main city, was unfriendly and mechanical, not at all like Sheridan.

Luke approached the metal docks, a number of boats getting ready for service. He looked to the ocean. Maybe it was because the thick grey clouds hanging eternally over Belkend that blocked out most sunlight, but the sea looked grey. The air was still cold, too, and felt foreboding as a breeze ghosted over his skin.

He hailed the services of a ferry named the Rising Falcon. Luke had never been around very many ships, and hadn't bothered paying much attention to their names until now. Some boat names were just plain weird, but supposedly changing a ship's name was bad luck.

The gangplank of the Rising Falcon hit the dock, the crew of who manned the ship impatiently urging the God-General and his aide onboard. Luke obliged, Lloyd following closely in tow. Just before the gangplank was taken back, the captain raised a hand, pipe lolling out of his mouth.

"Hold, lads. We've one more on our hands."

Luke turned, brow quirked. He went to the railing, looking to the harbor. Walking up to the gangplank with a leisurely step, she saw Luke and gave him a pleasant wave of the hand.

"Why, hello, Asch."

Luke grimaced, jaw set as the woman climbed onboard. The Falcon's captain shook hands with her, a crooked smile around his pipe.

"Aye, a pleasure to meet ya, Cantabile."

Luke threw the woman God-General a dirty glare.

"Why are you here?" He demanded crossly.

"I'm returning to Daath," She replied coolly, arms folded. "I have orders to bring the new God-General before Van."

Their eyes locked--jade and amethyst, hostile, almost throwing sparks. Luke didn't answer, instead stalking off, Lloyd following in his wake.

--

As the day progressed from late morning to afternoon on the seas, Luke made a point of roaming the deck, sometimes leaning on the railing to watch the now sunny skies, or just plain loitering around silently. Other times he would change locations, without warning or explanation. It was a strange display of unfocused distraction and wanderlust.

When this had happened for the fifth time, Lloyd had to ask. He approached Luke, who was standing by the railing, eyes fixed on the seas.

"Uh, Luke? What are we doing?"

Luke glanced over his shoulder, then over the other one before giving an answer.

"It's Cantabile."

"And?" Lloyd pressed, shrugging his shoulders.

"It's her and she's Van's right hand woman!" Luke hissed between grit teeth. For an eternity he had believed Legretta was Van's right hand woman, but if Cantabile had been a native of the Isle of Hod, she might have grown up with Van--and thus became a valued childhood friend that survived the destruction of Hod. More than anything Van respected and valued survivors, especially survivors that were strong.

"Think." Luke continued, voice strained to be quiet. "She didn't have to take the same ferry as we are, just to go back to Daath. She's the type to put her mission above all else." Here Luke's eyes were wide, fear glazing over his jade eyes. His voice went even quieter than it had been before, and soft. "Van sent her to spy on us. He suspects me."

Lloyd paused to swallow the lump in his throat. What had Luke said before? That they could fool most of the God-Generals, but they couldn't fool Van. Van would know the difference between Asch and Luke. Though, thinking back on the youth decked out in Daathic uniform that was identical to Luke (for that most certainly had been Asch), Lloyd could not tell even the slightest difference. Van must've spent a great deal of time with both Asch and Luke to be able to suspect that one might actually be the other. For Luke and Lloyd, standing right in the middle of enemy territory, that was a fatal mistake they could not afford.

"At least we could jump ship if it came to that," Lloyd offered in a feeble attempt to brighten things up. It only made Luke feel worse, as he shuddered and said stiffly, "I can't swim very well." This in turn made Lloyd's shoulders slump and his head to hang--was he the only one on the face of Auldrant to have truly lived rurally? Were urban people--never mind nobility or royalty or whatever--so sheltered that they couldn't even do something as simple as swimming? Water--rivers, lakes, oceans--was humanity's first frontier!

But Lloyd didn't let it bother him too much--not everyone had lived like he had, and he couldn't expect everything out of everyone he met. Everyone was different. He had learned that well enough over the course of his lifetime. The first time he had gone a journey like this, he was terribly conspicuous and had been discovered almost right away. Here, he had managed to adequately adjust himself--not perfectly, but it was believable enough to get by. Though Lloyd never really expected anyone on the face of Auldrant to conclude his origins.

"Well, don't let that get you down," Lloyd patted Luke's shoulder, his trademark giant grin plastered on his face. To Lloyd's surprise, Luke gave a small smile at the reassurance. "Look at it this way--" Lloyd pointed to the sky, "even if we did get caught, we still have room to fly."

Luke pondered the words for a while, staring at the deck, then out to the sea. His jaw worked, nothing said at first, but he managed a small murmur of agreement.

"... Yeah."

--

The Rising Falcon docked at Daath Bay a day and a half later, the sound of the gangplank hitting the stone dock a hammer putting the nail in the coffin to Luke's ears. Numbly, he disembarked, managing somehow to look confident when he felt anything but. Lloyd kept close to the disguised redhead, not wishing to be near Cantabile any more than Luke did. She had almost killed Luke in Sheridan, and so very easily, too. She was just as dangerous, if not more, than Van.

The lavender haired God-General easily walked off the gangplank, perfectly composed. Her left hand rested on the hilt of her katana, a sign of her eternal readiness for the unexpected. Or, if Luke was right, for the very much expected. Luke waited for Cantabile, scowling, arms folded over his chest. When the woman had stopped before him, he jerked a thumb in the direction of the road that led to Daath.

"How are we getting there?" He asked. More than anything he wanted to go either by foot or horseback.

Cantabile kept her gaze on Luke, who was beginning to sweat from uneasiness. His throat was tight, mouth dry as sandpaper. He fought not to fidget, as he often did when he was uncomfortable. A wry smile crept upon Cantabile's lips.

"Why don't we take a coach?"

"Wouldn't that be slower?" Lloyd interjected, sensing Luke's extreme discomfort with this option.

Cantabile sighed, as if she were very tired and wanted nothing more than some down time. "Our purpose is urgent, yes, but must we rush so blindly?"

To that neither Luke nor Lloyd had an adequate answer, thusly they found themselves riding in a stage coach bumping along the Daathic road, sitting across from the God-General that nearly killed them in Sheridan. For Luke it was even worse, for they were on Padamiya, heading to Daath--and sitting across from Cantabile, it felt as though she was his jailer, and taking him back to be imprisoned in the cathedral. Though it was under different circumstances for different reasons, once again Luke found himself in the cathedral's all-encompassing shadow. But this time it would be different. This time Luke would not be caged.

The coach pulled up before the city's gates, the streets heavily congested with church folk and pilgrims, civilians all. The defection to Van must have been more devastating to the Order's military than Luke had thought--and not just the military, the entire Order itself. Since most of Daath's military had deserted, only Yulia knew how this made Daath look on the world's stage. The Order of Lorelei would lose power. In the long run that might not be such a bad thing, but right now, when Auldrant was swept in the current of unfathomable, mind-boggling change and catastrophe, the people of Auldrant needed Daath as a pillar of strength, now more than ever.

The three filed out of the stage coach. If they had been dressed as ordinary civilians, they would have been swept away in the sea of church folk and pilgrims. But in Daath there was a healthy respect for the mantle of an Oracle Knight, especially that of a God-General. They easily made their way through the crowded street, to the cathedral that surveyed all.

Luke climbed up the stairs, forcing himself to keep calm. Cantabile had told him she had something to take care of here in Daath, but as she was probably sent to spy on him, he doubted it. But one thing was certain--she could not be allowed to see Luke trying to leave with Ion, if the Fon Master was even here yet. She would get even more suspicious, and for Luke that might as well be a death warrant. Yet the question remained--if Cantabile were to watch over him, how would he rendezvous with the Fon Master?

The heavy double doors of the cathedral closed behind them, abruptly shutting out the sunlight with a loud slam that echoed in the cathedral's tremendous entrance hall. The answer to Luke's question stood by the well, before the chapel door in the form of a tall, well-built man crowned with blood red hair, a sword belted to his waist--and garbed in the uniform of a God-General.

"Well, I'll be damned." Luke muttered to himself. "Dist wasn't lying."

"Oh, that's right. Dist still bears something of a grudge against you, no?" Cantabile asked, striding toward the swordsman. When Luke's eyes went wide, she added, "For Baticul."

Luke nodded--Baticul. Where Asch had moved against Dist and Mohs' wishes in freeing political prisoners and charging the Reaper with disloyalty to their Commandant. Not that Asch could talk, but it was enough to save their lives.

At the foot of the stairs Luke stopped, eyes fixed on this new God-General. The swordsman's uniform resembled Asch's, similar in design, but the colors were different. Electric purple hems and designs on the mantle against a black backdrop, a gold torque about his neck. His hair was short, long bangs hiding half his face, leaving a single garnet eye visible.

"Meet the newest God-General," Cantabile said, a smile spreading across her lips. "Kratos the Ardent."


	18. Apprehension

A/N: I haven't played Abyss for so long ... I should play again so I can get inspired to write for this more often.

--

Kratos folded his arms over his chest, face blank as his visible eye darted between Cantabile and Luke. He looked very imposing and formidable, especially more so since he was flanked by a few Oracle Knights for guards. Of all the Knights that had defected to Van, this man must be one of the last to leave Daath.

Luke swallowed the lump in his throat. The title of God-General was not carelessly given--anyone bearing that title must earn it through his or her own might. And to think that this Kratos had been named as God-General almost immediately after Sync died, perhaps even sooner was something unnerving to say the least.

Kratos was by no means a meat tank, but he was muscular, and his limbs were big enough to accommodate such strength. And if Kratos was truly a master swordsman as Dist had said, it would be hard enough to engage in a fight with him for just sword against sword alone. Could Kratos use fonic artes? Healing artes?

Luke's impersonation of Asch was already shaky as it was, but here he would have to fool only one person, Cantabile. Certainly this Kratos had never met Asch before, since he had been away from Daath for quite a while now. Luke scoffed as Asch might, drawing the other swordsman's attention.

"He sure looks the part," he said scathingly. "But can he live up to it?"

Cantabile smiled wolfishly. "Doubtless he can, if Van had inducted Kratos so quickly."

Luke narrowed his eyes. He didn't doubt that Kratos was every bit the God-General, since he gathered it must have taken Asch at least four or five years of training in the Knights under Van to attain the position of God-General. For Van to have initiated Kratos in such a short time--Cantabile was right, loath as he was to admit it.

"Now," Cantabile said, addressing Kratos. "Let us be on our way. Van awaits."

Kratos nodded mutely, walking down the stairs to Cantabile. He passed between Luke and Lloyd--and for the first time since meeting Kratos he noticed Lloyd's expression. The young man bore a face of sheer horror, jaw agape, pale as fresh snow. Lloyd was trembling, shaking beyond control, and his breath was rattling. But what caught Luke most of all were his eyes. Lloyd's eyes were wide, naked with fear and disbelief. Luke frowned. Did Lloyd know this God-General or recognize him?

Cantabile began to walk Kratos off, but before she fell into step beside the other God-General, she shot a look at Luke.

"Are you not coming?"

Luke shrugged, trying to hide his unease about Lloyd. "My purpose is not the same as yours."

"What have you returned to Daath for?" Cantabile pressed, her good eye cold and calculating. "Daath is of no use."

Irritated now, Luke had no trouble acting this time. "None of your concern."

At this, Cantabile stopped. She looked as though she wanted to say something but refrained from doing so. She fell into step beside Kratos, making no more conversation as they exited the cathedral, the noise of the huge double doors closing loud and harsh to Luke's ears.

A few moments later, Lloyd fell to his knees as if he had lost all strength to even stand.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked, kneeling next to him.

Lloyd was shaking fervently, as if he had just had a close encounter with Death and barely survived. "So that's where ... Unbelievable ..."

"Hello?" Luke waved a hand in front of Lloyd's face. "Lloyd? Are you listening?"

Lloyd snapped out of his stupor, nodding. He rose to his feet, but he still looked incredibly shaken, pale, and covered with a sheen of cold sweat.

"Lloyd." Luke's voice was low. "Do you know that man?"

It was as if Lloyd were struck by lightning. He jolted in place, his shaking still uncontrollable. "I ... we ... " He swallowed, breathed in deeply. He shook his head. "... No."

"Really?" Luke quirked a brow, but didn't press the subject. From the moment he had seen Lloyd break down that door in the cathedral, everything was conspicuous about him, from the way he dressed to the way he spoke. Luke inwardly supposed Lloyd was just fearful of the new God-General, but if they had never met before, what reason did he have to fear Kratos? And he had fought someone like Cantabile head on, without a single trace of fear, much less an extreme fear of this kind.

"Well, if you're all right now, we gotta find Ion."

Lloyd mutely nodded, face contorted with fright. He followed Luke, like a horse to be led. It unsettled Luke--Lloyd was the vivacious, optimistic charging type, the type to lead. He wouldn't be led like he was now. Whatever the encounter with Kratos had put in Lloyd's head, it must have shaken him up quite a bit. But Lloyd was stubborn and proud, so Luke said nothing of it. He knew those two traits very well--he had possessed them at some point in life. He might even have retained the stubbornness, but pride ... was a foreign feeling he no longer possessed. He had no right to claim it.

They searched the cathedral, asking each church member about the Fon Master. He was not in the entrance hall, not in the library, the chapel, or even his own chambers. There could be but one solution--Ion was not here, not in Daath. Luke was disappointed but by no means deterred. When he and Lloyd found Maestro Tritheim in the chapel, they requested that this message be left for Ion--to head to Keterburg--Mt. Roneal--as soon as possible. The Maestro agreed.

This posed a drawback in their plans to operate passage rings in conjunction with Asch's group. Not enough to seriously hinder them, of course, but it delayed them quite a bit. And if Ion was alone when he made the journey from Daath to Keterburg, that made him ripe for the taking on the parts of the God-Generals and Van's troops, if they needed to open any more Sephiroth. And since it appeared that at least Roneal was untouched, they would need Ion. So even if Ion were captured, he would be taken to Roneal to open the Daathic Seal, right where Luke needed him. That more than ever reinforced his initial belief that operating the ring through infiltration was the best course of action.

Lloyd was uncharacteristically quiet as they restocked their supplies of food, water, medicine, and any other item or service they needed before heading out again. Whenever Luke would ask, Lloyd would deny, and they would be left in a stifling silence; awkward didn't even begin to describe the strangeness to be around a grim Lloyd. Whatever was bothering Lloyd about Kratos--for it had to be no other--Luke humored him in keeping quiet. If Tear were here, she would do the exact opposite--pound some sense into Lloyd's head, as she did for Luke when the truth of Guy's Curse Slot had been let into the open. But Tear had known exactly what had been bothering Luke at the time--right now Luke had no idea why Lloyd was so upset, or any possible ties he had to Kratos the Ardent. So keeping quiet was the only thing Luke could do for Lloyd.

But by the time they had settled in the cathedral's traveler's quarters for the night, Luke had decided it had gone on long enough. During the evening cleanliness ritual, Luke brushing his teeth, he called to Lloyd in the other room.

"You're acting weird. What's so special about Kratos that he has you shaking in your boots all day?" As he spoke, toothpaste dripped out of his mouth. He wiped it off with the back of his hand, a keen ear out for his companion's reply.

Lloyd's voice was meeker than usual--as if it ever were normally meek. "Nothing."

Luke spat in the sink, downing a bit of mouthwash. He gurgled, spat, and rinsed. "Oh, so you expect me to believe that your collapsing like that was normal? If it was just fear, that's fine, but you've never fought Kratos before, and you sure weren't afraid when you fought Cantabile."

Another thing about Lloyd Luke had learned was that the other young man was hotheaded, and it was relatively easy to ruffle his feathers. "Shut up!" Lloyd said scathingly; Luke could just imagine the cross expression. "It's just that ... he has ... something of mine."

Luke quirked a brow, standing in the bathroom doorway. "Really? Someone you don't know has something of yours?" Luke could never be this forward with any of his other allies, but it was easier around Lloyd. Lloyd had not been there to watch his fall from grace, if he ever had any. Lloyd was not there to abandon him, Lloyd had not distrusted him so strongly it bordered on loathing. His bonds with Lloyd had not been broken before. There were no sharp, jagged pieces to be puzzled back together.

Lloyd sighed, sitting on his mattress, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling. "... Yeah. It belonged to my father."

"Your real father?" Luke asked, sitting on his own bed. It was late evening, but more time could be allowed for talking about this. Lloyd had said more on the matter just a few moments ago than he had all day. If Lloyd were stopped now, there was no guarantee he would continue ever again.

Lloyd nodded a confirmation. "Yeah. His sword. He passed it onto me after I beat him in swordsmanship, something I was never capable of before."

Luke nodded, thinking back to events earlier that day in the cathedral. When they had met Kratos, Luke remembered seeing the hilt of the God-General's sword--golden, studded with a red jewel on the hilt. "Oh, that one. Well!" Luke shot Lloyd a wide grin, much like one the brunette would give him. "All we have to do is beat him to a pulp and get your dad's sword back!"

Lloyd frowned, but for once his eyes met Luke's. "Yeah, I guess. Whenever we run into him ..."

As Luke turned off the lights and pulled the covers up, he couldn't help but hope that even if they had met Kratos the Ardent on Mt. Roneal, that they wouldn't have to fight there. It was hard enough fighting God-Generals in moderate climates--in someplace as treacherous as Roneal, they'd surely lose. Still, so far, so good, even with Van suspecting him. They had to hold just long enough to operate the passage ring in Mt. Roneal.

So far, so good.


	19. The Third Albiore

A/N: Y'know those scary little West Nile bugs? We had an infestation of those in the kitchen last night. Brrrrr.

--

Luke woke with a start, eyes wide, breath rattling, brow drenched in cold sweat. He leapt out of bed, but froze when he saw Lloyd slumbering peacefully across the room, in his own bed. Luke forced himself to calm down--then he remembered the events of the previous day. That's right--the Oracle Knights--the God-Generals--left Daath. He was no longer their prisoner. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He _hated _Daath. Nothing good ever seemed to happen here. The only good of this place was the Fon Master, the Tatlin family, and perhaps the library.

Luke ambled over to the window, pulling the curtains back. Sunlight of the early morning spilled into the room, a golden touch. The sun had only just risen, the horizon aflame in red gold.

As the sun climbed steadily higher, Luke silently thought. What should they do now? Should they wait for Ion, or go straight to Keterburg? Keterburg, he decided. If they waited for Ion here, they might come into contact with Asch and the others. A confrontation was exactly what he had been trying to avoid all this time. WIth Asch, it would definitely not be pretty. If it were with just one person--Tear, Guy, or maybe even Jade--then Luke might have considered it. With all six of them, however, there was too much to handle. Too many unresolved emotional issues and tensions. It was easier to focus on the task at hand--passage ring commanding.

He blinked, a sudden thought occurring. By now the others surely would have seen Luke's handiwork at the Meggiora passage ring, as the Sephiroth and their rings were connected. He thought, wondering how the others would have reacted to that bit of undeniable evidence that Luke was alive, possibly free of the God-Generals, and commanding passage rings to boot. First might be shock that he was even alive, then they would wonder how Luke was getting past the Daathic seals. With Ion requesting to return to Daath after Asch and the others activated a ring, it would become obvious that Ion was alternating between commanders.

And even if they couldn't confront Luke directly, they would know which passage ring he was headed for next--eliminating the ones they've already commanded and the ones that were destroyed or otherwise inoperable was no mean feat. And that meant they might try to catch him. Luke suddenly felt apprehensive, like he was the deer being chased by the hunter. He hated that feeling more than anything else. Most particularly because he was not a good runner, and he was not good at hiding. When it was nearly noon, he decided to wake Lloyd and go.

-

Once again the found themselves setting down the Daathic Road toward the harbor. As the God-Generals and most of the Oracle Knights had left Daath, there was no need for disguises, so they proceeded in their normal garb. Once again, Lloyd was eerily quiet. And once again Luke felt somehow cheated. There was no way Lloyd was going to act like this forever. It had to stop at some point or another. If there was one thing Luke unconditionally hated, it was traveling with such icy tension between him and his teammate. As they scaled Fourth Monument Hill, Luke tried to deal with it and humor Lloyd. How would he feel if a God-General held the legacy of his father? Admittedly he didn't know--he and Duke Fabre never were close, and he had never heard anything of an inheritance save the seat of Duke.

Although Duke Fabre had been an excellent swordsman, he had no sword today, much less one he'd be willing to pass on to Luke of all people. The only sword the Duke had was the Jewel of Gardios, and that belonged to Guy by blood and right.

When they were a third of the way to Daath Bay, Luke felt he had to ask.

"Say, what was your father like?"

Lloyd had never said what became of his father--only that he had been fostered much of his life and met his biological father later on. And it seemed that Lloyd had no problem talking about it.

"He ... hmm, how should I put it? He was serious, quiet, collected, calculating ... he was also a master swordsman and trained me a number of times, though I didn't know he was my dad at the time." As Lloyd talked, the grim tension in the air seemed to vanish. Inwardly Luke was relieved. It just wouldn't be Lloyd if he were constantly depressed.

Not that he could talk.

"So your father helped you, huh ..." Luke said, his eyes wandering to sky, a cloudless, clear blue. "Mine was never around me much. And even when he was ... it was like he couldn't stand me." Before he left the manor it was indeed painful that his father thought so little of him. But now that he was far from the manor--now that his family by now surely knew he was a replica, he felt detached from the Fabres. He still bore their name, of course ... but Luke couldn't help but feel he was no longer welcome in their household.

"Really?" Lloyd said, and form the lilt in his voice, Luke felt that his companion was glad for the change of topic. Luke understood if Lloyd felt he had to keep some secrets--the former had quite the skeleton in his own closet--but there was a certain point that the secret keeping would get excessive. Lloyd came across as an honest person, perhaps to a fault--he wouldn't willingly lie or cheat. So whatever Lloyd was keeping secret must be hidden with good reason.

Well. If Lloyd didn't want to talk, that was perfectly fine by Luke. He had his own secrets to keep, after all. Though in his bones Luke knew that his cat would be out of the bag soon enough. Despite his earlier resolve not to trust Lloyd beyond a battle teammate--or perhaps because of it--he found himself cultivating a friendship with the brunette. Indeed it was hard to ignore the fact someone saved your life thrice over.

"That--that ..." Lloyd began, trailing off, breaking Luke from his inner thoughts. Luke waited for the other swordsman to continue with a quirked brow; it wasn't like Lloyd to stutter.

Then Luke followed Lloyd's puzzled gaze to the sky.

"What is that?"

There was a dark blur in the sky, the sunlight glaring off its sleek black body. As it approached, the shape became unfathomably large, and huge gusts of wind and roars of fontech engines accompanied its arrival.

"What _is_ that?" Lloyd shouted over the noise of the engines, his and Luke's clothes whipping about in the powerful bursts of wind. Luke stared at the vehicle landing before them. It looked different, with a different color scheme--jet black with red patterns--but there was no mistaking it. A grin came to his lips.

"That," he told a stunned Lloyd, "is the Albiore."

-

Luke was perfectly at home in the Albiore, mood greatly uplifted that they were flying to Keterburg. Ginji was piloting, and prior to Luke and Lloyd boarding, the silver haired man told them that his grandfather Iemon had built this plane, the Albiore III, with the first one's flightstone and some parts. And thinking back to how Luke didn't have an Albiore but still commanded passage rings to help lower the land, Ginji thought that he could help out. Naturally Luke accepted.

Most of all Luke was glad for the Albiore and Ginji because not only would they save time and effort this way, they would advance ahead of Van's forces, who didn't have this kind of transportation. They had to rely on land and sea vehicles. Luke sat by the window, watching Auldrant fly underneath them. Last time they went to Keterburg aboard the Albiore II, the flightstone had frozen over. He hoped that Ginji or Iemon had put some sort of antifreeze in this Albiore so trouble of that nature wouldn't happen again.

While Luke was having fun, Lloyd on the other hand wasn't faring as well. He was almost attached to his seat, afraid to move around in a flying vehicle. Flying in itself wasn't what he was afraid of, however, nor vehicle. It was being inside of the flying vehicle that spooked him. He had no control over what happened to the aircraft, and he was helpless to prevent any unsightly happenings. This Albiore, he thought, was _nothing_ like a Rheaird. Luke noticed how nerve-wracked Lloyd was and had difficulty stifling a laugh.

"Don't worry, Ginji's a good pilot."

"I'm sure he is," Lloyd replied through grit teeth. Unfortunately, the merry way Ginji was humming as he piloted did little to alleviate Lloyd's nerves.

"But seriously," Luke continued eagerly, on the first real emotional high he'd had in almost a year, "isn't this great! We'll save time, we don't have to hoof it all the way across Auldrant, and the God-Generals don't have this kind of transportation!"

"But your friends do," Lloyd said flatly.

Luke nodded, blinking once. "Yeah. The Albiore II. Their pilot's Noelle, Ginji's sister."

From the sound of it, if they had continued to travel on foot, Asch's group could have found them if they so desired. And for whatever reason, Luke didn't want to be found. At that thought Lloyd became sullen. He just couldn't understand why Luke felt the need to hide from them. To Lloyd, his friends were the most important things on the face of the earth. He frowned, homesickness hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. It'd been almost two months since he first came to Daath, since he first met Luke. How were his friends? Were they worried? Did they even know he was gone? He shook his head. They had to have noticed his absence when he didn't respond to their letters or messages, as they had agreed to keep in touch despite going their separate ways. And knowing Lloyd from the inside out, they'd know something was wrong.

Lloyd wondered, what were they doing now? Colette had gone back home, Genis and Raine were traveling, Sheena also returned to her homeland as future leader, and Regal and Zelos also returned to their home cities. He imagined each of them going about their daily tasks, blissfully ignorant of the disappearance of one of their best friends. After everything the eight--the nine--of them had been through, how could they be anything but?

Lloyd clenched a fist, his eyes darkening. He ... had to find a way home. He just had to! He knew what he had to do here--help Luke stop Van--and when that was done, he knew how to get home. It was only a matter of time now, that, and the God-General that possessed his father's sword. Words he had spoken earlier rung truer than they had before--if he sacrificed himself, he'd be sacrificing all his loved ones.

There was a loud crash beside Lloyd's seat that had him jolting upright out of his chair. He looked around wildly for the source of the noise, wine red eyes fixing to the floor, where Luke lay in a crumpled heap, arms wrapped about his head as if some invisible force were trying to break his skull.

"Luke? Luke!"


	20. The Silver World, Keterburg

A/N: I apologize for supreme laziness. I was replaying FFIX. And then my mom and I had a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon last night. It's hilarious how different Will and Elizabeth became by the third movie.

--

Luke swam in and out of consciousness, the immense pressure inside his head threatening to bash his skull in. He was dimly aware of Lloyd standing over him, calling his name and asking if he was all right. Well, gee, Luke was only doubled over with a headache from hell, of course he was just fine, thank you very much, and would you like to have a cup a tea? Luke couldn't ignore the way Lloyd was yanking his arm off trying to get him to stand, but all he could do was focus on trying to stay bloody conscious.

The headache could mean only one thing--Lorelei or Asch was calling him. He hadn't heard from Lorelei in a long time, but he couldn't imagine why Asch would want to call him, especially now that he once more had a place with Natalia ... Either way, the sooner Luke could find out what he wanted, the sooner the pain could end.

"What do you ... want?" He ground out between grit teeth, ignoring the way Lloyd's brow quirked.

"I'm trying to help you!" Lloyd said, voice thick with confusion.

_'Replica!'_ Asch's angry voice jolted in Luke's mind. _ 'What the hell do you think you're doing!'_

"Trying not to ... pass out!" Luke clenched his eyes shut, the cabin of the Albiore III spinning crazily.

If Asch was annoyed before, he was downright pissed now. _ 'You know what I mean! We saw your commands!' _He ended on an almost accusing note.

So Asch and company must've already commanded the passage ring in the Meggiora Highlands, or were in the midst of doing so. Luke swallowed the lump in his throat, tuning out to Lloyd's baffled exclamations.

"What do you think? I'm helping you guys lower the land!"

Lloyd had since given up on speaking to Luke and stared, completely lost, eyes wide.

_'If you're able, then come back here! I have things to do!'_

"No!" Luke protested, almost throwing Lloyd off his arm. "There's no time! Van could drop the Outer Lands at any time!"

There was a profound mental silence. It was true, that the sooner the land was lowered, the better. And two passage commanders were better than one. Finally, Asch broke the ice.

_'... Fine. Where are you headed, then?'_

"Mt. Roneal." Luke answered. "The God-Generals are guarding that ring. They want to stop us this time."

_'Hmm. Does Van know what I've been doing?'_

"Not to the extent of my knowledge." Frantically Luke recalled the times he'd impersonated Asch. While among the God-Generals in that disguise, things had seemed all right ... but now Van had been catching onto the fact that "Asch" had been acting strangely.

_'Then how about this--we'll all go to Mt. Roneal. I'll go to the God-Generals, you and Ion go command the passage ring.'_

"But what about the panel?"

_'I don't know how you've been commanding without Tear. But you've done it once, you can do it again.' _ There was a slight edge of frost in Asch's voice.

" ... and the others?"

_'If you don't want to meet with them, that's your problem. All that matters is that Van's stopped.'_

Luke considered. If Asch would go to the God-Generals, he wouldn't have to worry about impersonating Asch anymore, and Ion would get to Roneal one way or another. Lloyd would be coming along to help command, too, and from the sound of it, Asch wasn't going to force Luke to meet the others. Although if they were all going to be on the same continent (and on Sylvana, the smallest continent), a reunion might seem inevitable, Luke would prefer to wait until the land was lowered. There were too many unresolved emotional issues there.

" ... All right. We'll do that."

Abruptly the connection was severed, and the pain ebbed away. Well, the rudeness hadn't changed. Without so much as a goodbye! Oh, whatever. Luke fell into his seat, leaning back, beads of cold sweat rolling off his brow. An angry Lloyd stood over him, scowling, arms folded. Luke's breath hitched. Uh-oh. Vivid memories of the last time Lloyd got so angry flooded his mind.

But Lloyd didn't strike him this time.

"Okay. What the hell happened there?"

Luke grimaced sheepishly.

"I was talking with Asch. We're connected--but only he can project his voice. I can't do it."

Lloyd continued staring at Luke, jaw agape. Telepathic communication? Well, there were spirits in this world, after all ... it didn't sound too far-fetched. But Lloyd had never heard of ordinary people mentally communicating without so much as a spell or medium of some such power. And what's more, Asch could contact Luke, but Luke couldn't do it?

Why?

"How are you talking like that? I don't get it."

Luke shrugged; he had no idea. Jade explained it once, something about "perfect isofons" and he heard Sync mention something about "synchronized fon slots" being opened at Choral Castle. The only way Luke himself could understand that was because he was Asch's replica--but he didn't want to tell Lloyd that. Everyone had treated him differently once that cat was out of the bag. Even people he didn't even know, the Oracle Knights, and especially the researchers at Belkend. Lloyd was the only person that Luke knew who didn't know of the circumstances of Luke's birth, so to speak.

Granted, it wasn't like they were buddy-buddy yet, but they trusted one another enough to watch each other's backs in battle, and they were well on their way to becoming friends. And it wasn't like Lloyd had spilled his whole life story, either, so Luke felt fine with omitting that piece of information.

After a long pause, Luke gave a heavy sigh. "We're just ... connected. I don't really understand it, either."

Lloyd didn't look entirely convinced, but nonetheless he dropped the subject.

--

Luke was glad that he and Lloyd no longer needed to wear their Daathic disguises, for more reasons than one. Foremost of those being that Luke had a warm coat and a scarf to go with that. Though the God-General mantle had covered him completely, it didn't retain heat very well, and for a humid place like Daath that was perfectly fine. Lloyd, too, sported a scarf, a white one that matched the snow blanketing the earth. Keterburg was a popular resort town in Malkuth, so the streets thickly congested with tourists of all backgrounds. This made Luke happy--in addition to his new clothing, the sea of civilians would help hide him and Lloyd from Van's forces, if any should be lurking in Keterburg to keep him from the passage ring.

All they had to do was prepare for a snowy hike and await Asch's signal. They already had warm clothes, medicine, food, water, and so on. Shopping in Daath had paid off; about the only things they needed were fonon lanterns should the visibility on Roneal drop. And though they didn't plan on camping up there, they had to be prepared for anything. Whenever the God-Generals were involved, things got slippery.

As they walked the ice-crusted cobblestone streets, Luke caught sight of the Keterburg Hotel, easily the largest and tallest building in town. Jade's sister Nephry had set them up to stay there the last time they were here. A wry smile pulled at Luke's lips. While it would be nice to stay there, he and Lloyd were better off at the cheaper inn--for financial reasons, mind you. Also, any of Van's forces on the prowl might not expect them to pick the cheaper place.

Luke discussed it with Lloyd, and he agreed; after their shopping spree in Daath, they did not have the gald to spare for an uppity hotel. They had checked in at the less expensive inn, but as they did Luke hoped they wouldn't have to stay long--while it wasn't precisely a rundown shack, it wasn't very comfortable.

"Why can't we just stay on the Albiore?" Lloyd asked, eyeing his lumpy mattress with evident distaste.

"Ginji can't land it on solid ice and snow. The only unfrozen patch of land is off on the western coast. It's too far from Mt. Roneal."

Lloyd opened their stove--their only source of heat. Heaps of dead grey ash lay inside. Lloyd smiled, nostalgic as he cleaned out the stove. There were small blocks of firewood next to the stove. Luke grimaced--they were in Keterburg, for Yulia's sake! You'd think that even a cheap place like this would have a fontech heating system! Bloody hell; how'd this place even stay in business?

Their room was small, and they couldn't very well go out with Van's forces stationed in Keterburg--where the God-Generals went, their soldiers followed, and for all they knew, they could be disguised as civilians. So they played a game of cards to pass the time after they coaxed a fire from the cold logs in the stove pit. Luke was amused as he played--his deck of playing cards was the same one that he'd bought the last time he was here. The cards were in the likeness of Luke and the others, Asch included, as a gift from Emperor Peony. Well, more like joke, really. Even when Luke was losing the game, it was immeasurably fun to see Lloyd's face each time he picked up a card in Luke's likeness or the others (which Luke also had fun pointing out who was who with insights to their personalities).

They were playing a rather heated game of spoons when Asch had finally contacted Luke.

"Hah!" Lloyd slammed down a card on the table, grinning widely as he claimed Luke's spoon.

"Dammit!" Luke said, chewing on the tip of his thumbnail. "I liked that spoon."

Lloyd laughed, tossing the spoon on the table. "Ha ha ha. I wouldn't take a man's spoon."

Luke smirked as he reached for his spoon--then his fist slammed on the pile of cards, his other hand clenching a fistful of red hair.

"Luke!" Lloyd started, leaping to his feet. Luke shook his head, grinding his teeth as he barked out, "It's only--Asch."

_'Where are you, replica?'_

Luke squeezed his eyes shut at the blinding pain.

"Keterburg. Where're you?"

_'Same. I'm going to meet the God-Generals. Head for Roneal; I'll tell you more when you get there.'_

Before Luke could question anything, the connection was severed, the blinding pain disappeared, leaving Luke's mind sound once more. He leaned over the table, regaining his breath. He hated those headaches! He stood, wiping cold sweat off his brow.

"That was it. Let's head for Roneal."

Lloyd nodded, but the concern did not leave his face.

--

To say Luke was nervous was a gross understatement. As he and Lloyd traversed the icy streets, it was all he could do not to search for signs of Fon Master Ion or any of the others. He didn't know where on Roneal the God-Generals were gathering, and therefore Asch's location was unknown. But they were all headed for Mt. Roneal--Asch would provide a nice distraction for the God-Generals in the front, while Luke and Lloyd would skirt around the mountain and find the passage ring. Asch had said nothing of Ion, so Luke would just have to have faith in his original. This was one of Van's final strongholds.

This would _have_ to work.


	21. Suspicion

A/N: This chapter was hard to write. I've written it three times over and the drafts still bug me. But you lovely readers were asking for it, so I give you this!

--

Asch knew he wasn't the only one with piqued suspicion the moment he laid eyes on the diagram of the passage rings looming overhead. What with Asch being the group's new passage commander, most of the Sephiroth but a few they've visited had Asch's neat Ancient Ispanian commands, whereas the Zao Desert ring had the untidy fonic language scrawl--and so did the passage ring at Mt. Zaleho. The first emotion that filled Asch, as it did so often, was immense anger. How had that dreck commanded a passage ring, let alone one hidden inside a volcano! Asch had been the active commander since Tataroo! What, was Asch being played? Had those people lied and said they needed him? It didn't add up.

Standing before the ring, Asch looked around, studying the people he'd been traveling with. Although a lot had happened since the ambush at Sheridan, Asch still felt it would be a bit too much to call them "friends," "comrades," or even "companions." They were just ... people he'd been traveling with. That was all. Except for Natalia. She was always the lone exception when it came to his anti-social rules. They were all standing before the ring, before the surge of white-gold memory particles, necks craned to look at the diagram of the passage ring--but nobody beside Jade seemed to notice the extra commands left by the dreck. The Necromancer stared at the untidy engravings carefully but said nothing. If Jade didn't want to bring it up, then Asch wouldn't, at least, not yet. There was still commanding to be done, and that was of utmost importance.

Greatly irked, Asch set to command the Meggiora passage ring. He raised his hands, gathering Seventh Fonons, beginning to glow with a gentle hyperresonance. With that golden glow in his hands he carved in the Radessia ring--slowly lower the land, shut down after lowering, wait for signal from the Radiation Gate. Once he was done, Asch turned to see Jade taking the blood fonon measuring device from Tear's arm. His mouth was drawn tightly in a thin line. The closest Jade would ever show to genuine distress.

"It seems the passage rings really are the source of Tear's miasma toxicosis. How unfortunate. Lorelei's possession of her in the core probably didn't help any."

"What do you mean, Colonel?" Anise asked from her place by Ion's side. They had fetched Ion from Daath a while ago. Back then he was surprised to see Asch with them, but once the situation was explained, he warmed up quite readily to the God-General. Ion also seemed somewhat subdued since they got him from Daath, but he wouldn't say much.

Jade adjusted his glasses, a favorite habit of his, even when he cast fonic artes in the heat of battle. "Really, Anise, it's not that hard to understand. Guy, if you would?"

Guy blinked twice over when Jade addressed him. Sheepishly he rubbed the back of his head. "Do I have to? I might not really understand all of it, Jade."

Jade was unfazed. He gave the blond swordsman a wide, almost frightening, grin. "Guy, the blond stereotype does not apply to men, as I'm sure you're aware of."

Asch had to shove a fist in his mouth to stop himself from--what? Laughing? Shouting? It was hard to tell, but the way Natalia glared at the Colonel ... yes, Asch decided; it was laughter he was keeping down. If he dared laugh at such a joke, then ... then ... Natalia would do something drastic. What, he wasn't sure of, but once Natalia got riled up, there was no telling what she'd do.

"Fine," Guy surrendered, there was nothing to be gained by arguing with Jade. He always stomped anyone in an argument, hands down. "The miasma comes from the core, Anise. Tear was infected with miasma-drenched Seventh Fonons, which also came from the core. And Lorelei is the sentience of the Seventh Fonon, also in the core. When Lorelei possessed Tear, it probably unintentionally infected her with even more contaminated Seventh Fonons."

"Wow," Anise whistled. Tear's condition had already been bad at that time, but now, commanding new rings with all that miasma inside her ... it was worse than doubly bad. It was a miracle that Tear still continued to fight battles and supported her allies. Her ability to cast fonic and healing artes must have been severely hindered, what with her system clogged with so many Seventh Fonons unable to properly exit her system. It was true, they had Natalia as a healer, but her artes focused on one person at a time, and Tear's healed everyone at once, exceptionally, too.

"Are you feeling well, Tear?" Natalia asked, deciding to ignore the Colonel's earlier jab at blondes. Well, if it counted for anything, Natalia was honey blonde, not platinum! Not that she cared for such stereotypes, no indeed!

Tear nodded--not that she ever was one to say something when she was suffering. "The medicine's working. I don't feel any pain."

"But even if you don't feel pain, you're still ..." Natalia trailed off. She wished Tear's condition was something that could be cured with healing artes, yet the very thing causing Tear's illness was the power to heal. It was a double-edged sword. Feeding her more Seventh Fonons wouldn't solve this.

"Never mind me." Tear said, her visible sea blue eye going cold and hard like ice. She fixed her gaze at Jade, steady, unwavering, looking every bit as dangerous as she was before the miasma toxicosis. "Colonel." She addressed Jade sternly, never how she spoke to the older man before. She always talked to him, and of him, with respect, as both a soldier and a fonist. "I don't know why you haven't said anything yet--Luke commanded the Zaleho ring."

There was a collection of startled gasps from Natalia and Anise, and Mieu, too, even though the little cheagle didn't understand what was going on. All he knew was that they mentioned his master, who had been captured so very long ago. Almost two months ago, now. Ion remained freakishly silent. "The Zaleho Sephiroth?" Anise repeated incredulously. "But that's practically on top of Daath!"

"Yeah," Guy agreed. "But the God-Generals have Luke. How ... unless--they were in Daath the entire time?" His brow knit together, a frown pulling at his lips. His teeth clenched, fists shaking--he was angry. "In the most obvious place possible! Jade! You were the one that said our time was better spent commanding passage rings! And--_we were just in Daath!"_

Guy's angry shouting rang throughout the passage ring; even the memory particles seemed to shake violently with the yelling. Yes, every one of the group was worried sick about Luke since his abduction, even Jade, despite the fact he never once showed it. Of them all, Guy was worried most--his best friend had been kidnapped. Only Ion could have matched his concern then.

"That's not possible." Ion said suddenly, coming out of his eerie reverie. "The God-Generals, as well as most of the Oracle Knights, left Daath to join Van."

"Then," Natalia's voice was obviously hopeful, "does that mean they simply left Luke behind?" If the God-Generals had captured Luke without the notice of Mohs, then Luke escaping Daath would be a little more believable. If Mohs had been aware of the capture, there was no way he would have let Luke go--he would have used Luke to start his holy war.

"It's certainly possible." Jade said with an even tone and a straight face. Not even his eyes betrayed what he felt, although his eyes were probably where he guarded his emotions the most. "We should be thankful that he hasn't screwed up the commands."

Asch smirked at the Colonel's comment--normally they didn't get along very well, but when it came to remarks about a certain dreck, they could have been best friends forever. Only the Colonel never seemed to outright bash the replica like Asch did. Perhaps like everyone else, even Natalia, he harbored a soft spot for the replica. Only he never showed it.

"Well, whatever." Asch said. "If he's running around freely, then you all join up with him. It's about time I stopped playing house with you all anyway. I have things to do." The fact that the replica wasn't as confined as he thought infuriated him. All this time he could have been researching into that certain matter, the matter he'd had a profound interest in once Dist let slip he'd completed his own research. If his suspicions were true--

"Asch," Natalia said softly, breaking Asch from his stupor. Asch grimaced--even after all those years apart, he was still very fond of Natalia. He could never distance himself from her, no matter how much he tried.

"You know I don't mean you, Natalia." He said, turning to face her. "I'd be glad to travel with you, but even if it was just you, I'd want you out of danger." He didn't care that the others were here to listen to that. It was the truth, and he had to make Natalia understand that.

There was an awkward silence after that. Jade cleared his throat. "In any case the next Sephiroth is Mt. Roneal. We can ascertain the truth there." Although he addressed everyone on that note, he made eye contact with Asch alone. The original had a feeling that the Necromancer was up to something, something that involved a certain pair of redheaded perfect isofons. Whatever it was, it could wait, at least until they got back to the Albiore. It was a long day--Asch never knew how tiring it was to get past Yulia's puzzles and the Dawn Age fontech meant to protect the passage ring. Just how much stamina did the replica have?

Asch also made another important discovery on this new journey--he hated the Meggiora Highlands with a vengeance to match his hatred for his replica. The cliffs and canyons were deep and steep, jagged, and sheer--the monsters were no walk in the park, either. And the heat! And the wind! The insufferable wind! Why did Yulia bother to save Radessia? Most of the damn continent was uninhabitable! In time, they arrived to the Nirna River, where the Albiore was berthed. Asch was proud that his country was the one to develop the ultimate vehicle that could go on land, water, and air all in one. The most advanced fontech Malkuth had were purchased from Kimlasca were modified Kimlascan designs.

It was cooler by the river, and not so many monsters appeared here, even though at a place where animals slaked their thirst must have been an ideal hunting ground. There weren't many places to hide, though, and the presence of the Albiore might've spooked the monsters off. Anise had remarked how nice it was to finally have some cool air in the Highlands when Jade ruined it by saying the cold air from the river clashing with the hot air in the Highlands caused twisters and at the worst tornadoes. That man sure knew how to kill a mood. But on the other hand, it would explain why Radessia was so uninhabitable.

"What's our heading?" Noelle asked, putting away the book she'd been reading while waiting for the group to return from their passage ring expedition. It was a rather interesting read, a novel about pre-Dawn Age times when civilization advanced and receded according to how many memory particles were coming from the planetary fon slots. Memory particles always had and will be the fuel for Auldrant.

Mieu clambered from the item bag Ion was carrying, scurrying over to Noelle's lap as he always did for long flights. He could fly a little bit, but it was so much better to see firsthand what it was like for the Albiore to fly. Even cheagles could pretend.

"Mt. Roneal!" The little blue furry thing squeaked.

"Roneal?" Noelle repeated, brow quirked. "Do you really want to go so far in one trip?" Indeed, the Sylvana continent was quite the ways from Radessia.

"Yes, please, if you can manage it." Natalia said. "Luke may be heading there as well."

Noelle's eyes went wide. When she heard that Luke had been abducted by the God-Generals, she'd been torn. He had always seemed like such a nice kid, it was hard to believe he'd been kidnapped, especially by such people like the God-Generals! The rumors she heard about their imprisoning methods were not at all helpful, either. Despite Daath's army being for peacekeeping purposes, they were supposedly more ruthless than either Kimlasca or Malkuth.

"All right." She said, settling into the pilot's chair with Mieu tucked in her lap. "I'll get us there as fast as I can."

Since Noelle needed to concentrate on flying, everyone filed into the adjacent hallway that led to their cabins. Man, were airships great. And Kimlasca, too, for engineering such a vehicle! Not only could it fly and fight, it had rooms for its passengers! Asch was fuzzy with almost forgotten pride for his homeland.

Wordlessly everybody went into their rooms to rest for the flight. Asch absolutely refused to use the dreck's old room (who knew what horrors lie in there), instead he used the one on the end of the hallway. It was how he liked it, simple and of a reasonable size, same going for the dresser there and the bed. Asch unbelted his sword, letting it lean on the wall. He sat down on the bed, taking off his boots--damn Oracle uniform, he'd never voluntarily agree to wear such high shoes!--when there was a knock at the door. Asch sighed, letting the boot in his hand drop to the floor. He thought it might be Natalia, to convince him to stay in this group at least a little longer. If it wasn't for Natalia, Asch wouldn't be here now.

"Come in," Asch said, resigned to his fate. He couldn't remember when it stopped being easy to say no to Natalia.

But Natalia wasn't the one who walked in his cabin.

"My, what's with that look? Is my presence that insufferable?" Jade was all smiles as he closed the door behind him, hands in his pockets, calm and relaxed like he always was. Asch scowled. He always hated that about Jade, nobody could ever tell what he was thinking, or what he was going to do next. Asch never liked to be in big rooms before, but now with the Necromancer not ten feet away from him he wouldn't mind something as big as a ballroom.

"The hell do you want, old man?" Asch spat, holding the remaining boot in his hand as if it were a weapon. Well, the sole was rather thick, it could hurt a tad if thrown at someone. Preferably someone standing not ten feet away with strawberry brunette hair, glasses, and an eternal goofy grin.

"There's something I'd like to speak with you about." He answered without batting an eyelash.

Asch sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Anise was right; he was going to end up with a ton of wrinkles, like Uncle Ingobert. Not that he cared.

"If it's about the replica, you can talk about him with someone else. I'm sure there are plenty of people here more willing than me."

Jade was not fazed. He continued ominously, "No one else besides me can talk about Luke objectively."

Something struck a chord within Asch, and he froze, green eyes locked with blood red. Slowly he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Allow me to pick your brain. Last we saw Luke, he was abducted by the God-Generals. Now he has commanded the passage ring at Mt. Zaleho. How can this be?"

Asch gave an irritated sigh. The old man just didn't want to explain, so he always picked people's brains, whether they liked it or not. Asch did not like having his brain picked, especially by someone like Jade. It was his brain, for Yulia's sake! Nonetheless he indulged the Colonel. Otherwise the older prick wouldn't leave him alone.

"Obviously he was either forgotten by the God-Generals when they left Daath, or he escaped." Asch answered, staring at his feet, bare but for his black socks. When Jade gave a small amused chuckle, Asch snapped his gaze to the fonist.

"Do you honestly believe that? Would the God-Generals really leave such a hostage behind, and would Luke really be able to escape from them?" Perhaps it was unfaithful to say that, but the truth was nobody expected Luke to be able to escape the God-Generals on his own.

Asch rubbed his temples, gritting his teeth together. Reluctantly he said, "No."

But Jade had a strange smile--a smile that got just a little wider at Asch's answer. "What if," he said, crimson eyes glowing maliciously, "Luke never escaped the God-Generals at all?"

Instantly, the memory flashed in Asch's mind--a passage ring glowing gold, great earthquakes sundering the land before giving one final shudder and falling away. People's bodies and homes and families toppled over, buried in the earth, battered and broken by the rock as they all were consumed by the dark abyss below. And yet somehow, miraculously, _it wasn't his fault. _

"What are you implying?" Asch demanded hotly. "There's no way that even that defect of a replica would side with Van!" If the replica really had joined Van, then that made matters simple. Asch would kill them both.

"Motives aside," Jade continued calmly as if Asch hadn't spoken, "it's possible that Van can use Luke's power without his consent, just like Akzeriuth."

"But the commands!" Asch protested. "They were the same for what I wrote to lower the land!"

"If Van had been forcing him to command the ring, it's possible that he hid a code of his own behind Luke's commands. A trap door, if you will."

Asch clenched his fists. That sounded just like Van, unbelievably manipulative. "So what are you saying?"

Jade gave a small shrug. "We're going to Roneal right now, to command the ring. If Luke's there, we can make sure. I'd like you to contact him for me."

Asch grimaced. He never liked to contact the replica. Before Akzeriuth, Asch would have done so a million times if it meant he could use him to get to Van. But that had failed, so the original was happy not breaking down anybody's mental doors. But if Van had the replica and was forcing him to issue false commands to the Sephiroth, it could mean the end of Auldrant.

Asch nodded, closing his eyes, clearing his mind. He found the connection made by their synchronized fon slots and forcibly opened it. He met mental resistance, and broke it without hesitation.

_'Replica!'_

Jade watched as the original Luke made mental connection with his perfect isofon. As time passed, Asch's face only got more contorted with annoyance and anger. Another few moments passed, and Asch's face relaxed, if only slightly. It certainly was fascinating to watch the original like this, expression changing like wildfire for reasons only he and his replica could know. This connection was a private thing, so Jade never bothered Asch about contacting Luke before now. If Asch had while Luke was still imprisoned, it would have spelled disaster, for it would have told Van that Asch had no intention of siding with him. And they needed Asch to be able to return to the God-Generals, if only for a little while, for Jade's plan to work.

Asch opened his eyes, and as far as Jade could tell, the link was closed up. There was silence for a time before Asch spoke.

"You're right, it is suspicious."

"What did he say?" Jade asked, never once sounding eager to get this bit of news from his missing ally.

Asch took a deep breath. "I asked him why he didn't return to you if he can, and he said there was no time, that Van could drop the land at any time."

Jade nodded. "That certainly is suspicious, although considering his personality it makes a certain amount of sense. But after Tear promised she'd watch him to see if he'd change, I'm surprised he hasn't come running yet." It was left unsaid, but that testimony just now supported, no, reinforced Jade's belief that Luke was still in the God-Generals' cage.

"He told me that the God-Generals are guarding the Roneal passage ring." Asch continued. "I said I'd go to them and distract them and he could operate the ring."

"I thought that Van was too quiet lately," Jade said, brow quirked. "But why tell Luke he could operate the ring if he could?"

"You wanted to find him yourself, right?" Asch asked with a wave of the hand. "If he's not with Van, fine, if so, you can just take him back."

Jade gave a bent smile. "That's easier said than done. You sound like you intend to leave us at Roneal. If we can't get Luke back, how are we to command the ring?"

An idea came to Asch. "I've got it. When I go back to the God-Generals, I can stage a capture of Ion and Tear. They don't have to see us fight, just me bringing those two to them. I'll be able to get into the ring that way."

"And how you do you intend to get yourself and those two out of there alive when all is said and done?" Jade asked.

Asch shrugged. "You guys can just come and rescue us. If the dreck's there, I doubt he'd stay away, either."

Jade chuckled, catching his glasses when they slipped down the bridge of his nose. "Either way, it seems we must fight the God-Generals on Mt. Roneal. This is not going to be easy."

Asch heaved another sigh. No indeed, this was not going to be easy. "No it won't." Asch said, "and get the hell out of my room!" Jade was already halfway out the door when he paused, smiling from ear to ear.

"Natalia won't be pleased that you're really leaving."

"Shut up!" Asch threw his boot at the Colonel, but the fonist shut the door so the boot hit the metal and fell harmlessly to the floor. He knew it was going to be hard to leave Natalia again after all these years apart, especially since she was so hellbent on getting him to stay. He didn't need to hear the stupid Colonel to tell him that.

After seven years apart, Asch was going to break her heart again.


	22. The Steadfast, The Ardent

A/N: More random news: my dad took me out to practice driving yesterday. I got to drive the beast of the mini-van. I did pretty well; only hit the curb three or four times.

--

The wind howled, the air was fierce and frigid, and everything was bluish-white. Luke struggled through knee-deep snow, soaked to the bone and cursing their worst of the most rotten luck. The actual journey from Keterburg to Mt. Roneal was nothing special albeit a bit uneventful. But not even an hour of climbing her slopes, a hellish blizzard rolled over the mountain. He stumbled, falling in the snow. He was weak, cold, tired, hungry, dehydrated, but most of all--alone. He'd gotten separated from Lloyd in the duration of the blizzard.

Alone, vulnerable to monsters and some of the more dangerous enemies--drop-offs, avalanches, and the God-Generals guarding the passage ring. Whenever someone got lost, he or she was advised to stay in one place so as not to get even more lost so his or her companions could search for him or her. But there was nowhere Luke could safely wait for the snowstorm to spend itself. And if the blaring snow wasn't any indication, he wasn't going to find such a place anytime soon. However, he did find the next best thing.

"A--tree?" Luke's voice was lost in the howling wind, he could barely see his hand before his face, but he felt the ice encrusted bark--yes, it was a tree. A large one, buried deeply in the snow. Like the other evergreens on the mountain, its boughs were capped heavily with snow. But it did somewhat shelter Luke from the bitter wind.

He crouched by the tree trunk, against the wind, trying his best to get comfortable. The cold was stabbing through his layers upon layers of warm clothing, and those damn fonon lamps had gone out before the blizzard had even rolled in! He hated what he was doing--huddling behind a tree while Lloyd was still somewhere out there--but what could he do? Calling out would start an avalanche. And with visibility practically zero, he wouldn't find anyone no matter how hard he tried. He hated it, but the best thing to do now was just to wait out the storm. From behind his tree. Luke hung his head, hugging his knees to his chest. It was so cold.

--

Two hours had passed before the storm had finally cleared up, and Luke thought it safe enough to venture past his tree. He was extraordinarily cold--he spent a good time stretching out his limbs and warming them up. He hadn't gotten any frostbite, a really good sign. Those fonon lamps, even if they had went out, were good for something; he had clutched the lamp and syphoned its Fifth Fonons.

After he had gotten a swig of water he looked out on Roneal's slopes. Everything was blanketed in thick silvery white. Luke paled. There was no way he could trace his steps back to where he might have been with Lloyd last. And who knew--the blizzard could have buried him. Luke's heart hammered against his chest. No, no, no! Lloyd couldn't--he just couldn't be dead! So Lloyd wasn't the sharpest sword in the forge, so what? He was a country boy, and he mentioned having climbed snowy mountains like Roneal before, so he was probably sharp enough to survive this. Lloyd's wilderness instincts were top notch.

Either way, Luke had to find Lloyd. Without him, there would be no operating the passage ring, provided the Daathic seal hadn't been buried as well. Luke stood rooted beside his white tree, stunned at the sheer expanse of virgin snow. It would certainly be a challenge to find his way down the mountain, let alone a lost companion. Luke really wished he could call out, but fresh snow upset more easily, and there was no way to outrun an avalanche.

Luke clenched his fists, grit his teeth. One way or another, he would find Lloyd. He began by carefully making his way down the slopes; he was closer to the base of the mountain than the summit, and he doubted that even Lloyd would be dim-witted enough to continue climbing, especially in that blizzard. The fresh snow was much looser than Luke had anticipated; he fell through to the more packed snow underneath on many occasions. As he descended, the snow underfoot became more packed, less loose--the snowfall hadn't come down so hard down here.

There were also clumps of trees clustered around the base of the mountain here--a frigid forest, each evergreen tall, wide, and capped with white. Luke paused, studying the ground. There were tracks. He approached them, kneeling to examine them. The tracks were round, claw-tipped, about the size of his fist. Prior to leaving the manor, Luke wouldn't know a deer's tracks from a dog's, but the journey had turned him into a seasoned traveler and hunter--he could identify many creatures from tracks alone.

These tracks were fairly fresh, big, four-toed, made by padded feet, or rather, paws. He followed a set of them, they led at a steady pace through the trees, behind bushes and rocks, almost as if the animal was stalking prey from behind cover. As he followed them, the tracks were farther apart, as if the hunter had begun to give chase ... Abruptly Luke stopped. He came to a smallish clearing in the trees. In the center the was much disturbed with more tracks of multiple monsters and telltale signs of a violent conflict.

There were also flat, oval-shaped tracks, the tracks of a person.

"Lloyd?" Luke rushed to the center, where the fight had taken place. Examining the prints, he nodded. It was hard to see, even in snow this packed, but there were the faint traces of the patterns on the bottom of Lloyd's boots. He looked up--there was a frigid lump in the snow nearby with thick white fur to match the snow, slashed to ribbons, caked with dark, dried blood. He frowned. He couldn't prove that Lloyd had been through here. Slash marks on a wolf's body didn't mean it was a dual swordsman that had done it, and someone else could have shoes similar to Lloyd's ... the list of what-ifs seemed endless.

But if it was Lloyd ... he was by himself, and there were at least two wolves he had been fighting, if not more. The bloodstains sunk into the snow did nothing to alleviate his worries, either. Luke stood, kicking a flurry of snow and cursing vehemently. Lloyd may have been here, maybe not, but he couldn't ignore the possibility. Fighting a pack of wolves by one's self was no easy task.

Luke sorted out the human tracks from those of the wolves; they had overlapped one another where the fight had taken place. More blood marked where someone had gotten wounded, person or wolf, Luke couldn't tell.

"I'm coming, Lloyd," Luke murmured as he ran in the direction the human tracks led, hand on his sword hilt.

The shrill howl of a wolf rang in the distance.

--

Tear was a little apprehensive, albeit understandably. Asch and Jade had unveiled what they had found out from contacting Luke--namely the God-Generals were guarding Mt. Roneal, or rather, the passage ring within those frosted slopes. How many Asch hadn't been sure. Sync was dead, but there were still five God-Generals to contend with, leaving out Dist, who Jade had dealt with in the city a while ago. Idiot really had waited in the freezing cold for Jade to come and claim the flightstone, but the joke was on him--Ion had held it for them, apparently at Luke's behest.

Legretta the Quick, Arietta the Wild, Largo the Black Lion, Cantabile the Steadfast, and Kratos the Ardent. Those last two they knew little of save what Dist had told them at Jade's prompt. Tear knew Cantabile, of course ... she had trained Tear alongside Legretta, although never at the same time. Cantabile, as a survivor of Hod, fought in the Sigmund style, katana and all. She was also a Seventh Fonist, though weaker than Van in comparison. Kratos ... was a complete mystery. Dist had said Kratos was a powerful swordsman--with a style none had seen before, though it had some similarity to the Albert style--and he was a fonist of all types, including Seventh. But even then there was some relief; Kratos used only fonic artes of medium power, including Seventh.

Five of the God-Generals, six of them. As it was it would be an extremely dangerous fight, not to mention it would be fought on Roneal's slopes. But for Asch's plan to work, it called for just him, Tear, and Ion to meet the God-Generals. It was a play--Asch had "captured" Ion and Tear, and would slip into the passage ring when Jade, Guy, Natalia, and Anise would distract the God-Generals above with a fight. To "rescue" Ion and Tear. If all five of them were defending the ring, it would be tough, but after Asch and Tear would command the ring with all due haste, they would rejoin them and aid in the fight.

They had to travel in their respective groups at a distance. If Jade's team came too soon, the God-Generals would know something was up. The play had to be as accurate as possible to get the best chance of getting in there, commanding the ring, getting out and defeating the God-Generals.

So Tear had found herself climbing the slopes of Mt. Roneal, helping Ion through the snow, Asch watching their backs. Jade's team was quite the ways behind them. It was worrisome, but necessary if their plan was to work. It was very risky, and one of the reasons Tear had agreed to it was that they might find Luke if he indeed was on his way to this passage ring. When Asch had contacted his replica, Luke apparently did not want to--or could not--return. To say it upset Tear was an understatement. She was on the verge of flaming fury. How could he--why would Luke not want to come back?

She ... she had promised she'd watch him.

She slipped on the snow (why women Oracle Knights had to wear heels she'd never understand), a strong arm catching hers, stopping her fall. Tear looked up, startled, into Asch's face, as stoic as ever.

"Are you all right?" He asked, in that voice that was different, but yet so much like his replica's.

Tear nodded, steadying herself. "I'm sorry. Let's keep going."

Asch quirked a brow but said nothing.

--

The tracks had led Luke to a small valley, more of a crevasse than anything, really. Perhaps it was a vale. Anyway, he passed the bodies of two more wolves half buried in the snow, carved in slashes and stab wounds. No doubt about it; the swordsman that killed the wolves was definitely down in that vale. Luke half-ran downhill, coming to a stop at the edge of one of the capes that dropped off into the vale. An icy blue vein ran through the small valley--a river, albeit one covered in ice.

Luke carefully made his way into the vale, down a game trail worn into the walls of the crevasse. There were more people's tracks here, on the riverbank. Something shone in the dull winter sunlight on the surface of the frozen river. He walked over to it, bent to pick it up. He held it in the light, the metal glinting silver. It was a capacity core. No, it was Lloyd's capacity core. Luke couldn't suppress the huge grin spreading on his face. So Lloyd was definitely here. That was a relief.

_"Judgment!"_

Reflexively Luke rolled forward on the frozen river, dodging the countless beams of light that rained down where he had been standing mere moments ago. Clutching the capacity core he leapt on his feet, sword drawn, looking wildly for the attacker. A man leapt down into the vale, a rippling sword of flame in hand. Without hesitation he charged, slashing at Luke.

Luke raised his sword and sparks clashed in the deadlock. Luke's feet slipped on the ice, but he held his ground, glaring into the eyes of the God-General.

"Kratos." he spat.

Kratos threw Luke off, winning the deadlock, and slashed at Luke. Luke ducked, rolled to the right to avoid the next stab, skidding on the frozen river. Kratos slipped once or twice, but he never fell, always coming to Luke on the offensive. Luke fended him off as best he could, but it was still immensely difficult. Dist hadn't been lying when he said Kratos had quite the talent with the sword!

Luke lunged, hand glowing with red fonons as he attacked with a Raging Blast. Kratos moved slightly to the right to dodge it, and swung his left leg in a powerful kick to the midsection that knocked the wind out of Luke and sent him flying across the frozen river, sword clattering out of reach.

Luke mentally cursed, face contorted in pain as he struggled to regain his breath. He panted on the ice, trying to stand. Kratos slowly walked toward him, flame sword raised.

"That's quite enough, Kratos."

Kratos lowered his blade, looking to his right. Luke managed to get to his knees, still heaving for air. The cold of Mt. Roneal rattled his lungs, freezing his airways. He followed Kratos's gaze. Snow crunching underfoot, katana glinting in the sunlight walked Cantabile, stopping on the riverbank.

Luke coughed, getting to his feet. His sword was past Kratos now, and after the beating the Ardent just dealt him, he doubted he could get past Kratos weaponless. He was completely at the mercy of two God-Generals. He scowled.

"The hell are you waiting for?" He spat at Cantabile, still holding his sore stomach. "If you're gonna kill me, do it!" Better to die with dignity than crawling on the ground, shameless and defenseless.

Cantabile shook her head. "Time enough has passed. I have asked you before. Join us and live, oppose us and die. What's your choice?"

Luke groaned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "The hell do you think? Of course I'm gonna oppose you!"

Cantabile frowned, drawing closer. She and Kratos were spread apart, closing in on Luke like wolves on the deer. Luke could nothing but stand where he was, shivering, hurting, and frightened. His sword was still beyond his reach, and there was no way he could defend himself from their attacks.

He stopped. There was still at least one way ... and if he played his cards right, he might be able to reclaim his sword. But they were fast approaching now--he'd have to show them how much he'd been training--

_"Icicle Rain!"_

The Fourth Fonons were quite plentiful here, and in ice form, ready made, if you will. The Fourth Fonons quickly condensed into tangible solids above Kratos and Cantabile, shooting down with considerable force. The God-Generals leapt back, the fonic arte separating them. Luke ran off the river, trying to wheel around to get his sword.

Kratos saw this and charged straight for him, aiming a Double Demon Fang. Luke jumped over the shock-waves, accumulating fonons for another fonic arte to keep Kratos at bay. Cantabile, meanwhile, was separated by the giant icicles Luke had called. When Kratos had come close enough, Luke forcibly pushed all the Fourth Fonons out of every external fon slot.

_"May the merciless embrace of frost take you! Absolute!"_

A wall of solid ice jutted out of the ground, forcing Kratos to stop lest he risk impalement on the sharp jagged pieces of ice Luke conjured. The fonic arte had nothing on Jade's Absolute, but it would do. Luke smirked despite the fonic exertion; the path to his sword was now clear--

But Kratos wasn't one to give up easily.

"Stop where you are! _Grave!" _

The earth underfoot buckled, stone breaking free of its icy prison, hitting Luke with full force. He collapsed on his back in a snowdrift, yelling with pain. It hurt. It hurt so much to just move ... he rummaged in his bag for a gel, popping off the bottle cap and downing it in one go. It went down more easily than he expected.

Kratos by then scaled the ice by destroying some of it with his Flamberge. Cantabile broke her blockade with a Demon Fang Fury, running to catch up to her God-General partner. Luke scurried to his feet, the gel he swallowed working wonders. Well, they weren't called Miracle Gels for no reason ... he slipped on the snow, dashing away from the oncoming swordsmen, heart banging against his chest--they were going to get to him, sooner or later--

"Luke! Catch!"

Luke snapped his gaze toward the familiar voice. His mouth stretched in an almost disbelieving grin. Lloyd stood on the vale wall, holding a sword whose blade shone silvery blue. With a start Luke realized that, in contrast to Kratos's Flamberge, composed almost entirely of Fifth Fonons, the sword Lloyd held was composed almost entirely of Fourth Fonons. Lloyd tossed the blade to Luke, and carefully eyeing the way it spun toward him, leapt and caught it by the hilt.

By now Cantabile and Kratos were nearly upon him, and Luke defended himself with the first thing that came to his mind. With the sword as a catalyst he drew in massive amounts of Fourth Fonons, spinning in an arc, drawing a fonic glyph in the ice with the blade tip. The ring underfoot glowing blue, he shouted,

"Chill! _Guardian Frost!" _

Both Cantabile and Kratos were caught in the attack--blades of ice ruptured from the ground, cutting and stabbing where they could reach. Cantabile cursed, and Kratos hacked away at the ice engulfing them.

Luke leapt back as the God-Generals struggled to free themselves. The barrier of ice remained between them and Luke as he retreated to a safer distance, Lloyd jumping down to stand beside him. The brunette drew his twin blades.

"You all right?"

Luke nodded. "Y-yeah, but barely. Thanks."

Lloyd flashed a smile. "Dwarven Vow # 4!"

Kratos had finally broken free of the ice, Cantabile was well. They were wounded, bleeding where the spikes of ice had broken their skin. But they were not beaten down so easily.

"Cantabile, hold still." Kratos said, Seventh Fonons gathering in his fon slots. _"Healing Wind!"_

The Seventh Fonons mixed with Third ones, the resulting wind closing up their injuries without so much as a scar left over. Luke held the Vorpal Sword Lloyd had given him, ready for the next assault.

Lloyd sprinted ahead of Luke. The noble blinked twice before belatedly rushing after him, almost falling in the snow. "Lloyd, wait!"

But Lloyd didn't wait. He rushed Kratos, swords flying in a Tiger Rage. Kratos deflected each of the strikes, countering with a Lightning Blade. Lloyd protected himself using the Guardian defense arte, going again to attack, this time with a Lightning Tiger.

Luke would have watched the fight between Lloyd and Kratos if he could--they were attacking and defending equally well in an excellent show of acrobatics; it was almost like a dance, a dance of death. But Cantabile had opted to duel him instead. It was true that Luke was scared--he was nowhere on Cantabile's level, despite how much he'd grown since the ambush in Sheridan.

Cantabile was a flurry with a spinning Phantom Blade, which Luke had caught and redirected elsewhere. He then swung a Rending Fang Blade, Cantabile jumping back, attacking from a distance with Demon Fang. The shock wave forced Luke on his rear in the snow. Cantabile charged with a Sword Rain, Luke struggling to block it while getting on his feet.

He slipped, one of Cantabile's sword thrusts cutting his cheek. Luke shook with adrenaline, knocking the katana away. Too close. Any more to the right, and Luke would've lost an eye.

_"Rending Quake!"_

The stone leapt from the ground, breaking the ice and snow holding it down. Cantabile staggered, and that was all Luke needed. He gathered the Sixth Fonons the sunlight provided him, his hands and sword glowing white. He spun in an arc, the Sixth Fonons shining brightly.

"Piercing flash! _Light Blast!"_

Cantabile yelled, blinded in the convergence of the Sixth Fonons, Luke's sword slashing her side. The force sent her flying, rolling across the frozen river.

"Cantabile!" Kratos shouted, hesitating--Lloyd bested him, too, spouting Third Fonons in a well-executed Thunder Beast. Kratos fell on a snowdrift, singed and downed.

Luke bent over, hands on his knees, panting for breath. The only one who was more skilled than Cantabile was Van, and beating Cantabile meant he was one step closer to besting Van. That was the best encouragement he could have ever garnered. Luke stood, inhaling deeply. Cantabile started to get up in the snow, grasping her katana tightly.

Luke ran to Cantabile, Vorpal shining indigo in the sunlight, intent on killing her before she could get up--

"Luke!"

The snowy earth rose up to punch him in the face. Dazed, Luke rose to his knees, dizzy. Blood gushed down his forehead. He blinked, trying to clear the haze that was his vision. His eyes darted aft. Kratos stood before Cantabile, sword in hand, already on his feet.

Lloyd was already running to Luke's side, hands glowing with the soft greenish-white of healing artes. He knelt, putting a hand on Luke's bleeding forehead.

_"O soothing light ... Heal!"_

The gash disappeared, the only indication if it ever being there was the hot blood still on Luke's face. Lloyd was not the only one focused on healing his allies. Kratos was helping Cantabile to sit up, the gash on her side quite ugly, blood seeping through her Oracle uniform to stain the snow on the ground. Kratos patched her up with an arte stronger than the one he used before, Healing Stream. Her wound was gone, but she was still quite weak.

So Kratos sheathed Flamberge, grabbed one of Cantabile's arms, slung it over his shoulder, and helped her to stand.

Lloyd leapt on his feet, brandishing his swords.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, Kratos!"

Kratos paused, turning to look at Lloyd with a poker face. "I am looking after my comrade. Is there something wrong with that?"

Lloyd shook his head disbelievingly. His voice rose to a shout. "More than I can tell! You can't mean to tell me that you don't know who you are! Don't you remember anything!"

Kratos quirked a brow, Cantabile beside him mirroring his confusion. "Who I am? I am a soldier, under Van's command. That is all I need to know."

Luke rose to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. "Do you even know what Van's trying to do? You really are willing to blindly follow him, with no knowledge of the consequences?"

Kratos hardly batted an eyelash, wine red eyes locked with jade green. "I owe that much to the man who saved my life when I was lost in Mt. Zaleho. When I can remember nothing but my name and fighting skills, he gave me a place. A future."

Lloyd bowed his head, brow furrowed, face contorted in rage. His fists trembled, and Luke looked on, jaw unhinged. This was the angriest he'd ever seen Lloyd. It was more than a little unnerving.

Without another word Kratos made his leave, walking into the woods that rested at Roneal's base, half carrying Cantabile. Luke and Lloyd just watched them leave, left standing alone in the middle of a vale, the telltale signs of battle in the disturbed earth and ice.

In the unnatural stillness and quiet, Lloyd fell to his knees, pounding a fist on the frozen ground, screaming the most colorful curses he knew. Luke stared, not knowing how to help, if he even could help quell such a rage.

The snow was stained crimson.


	23. The Alliance

A/N: I know this is late, I still haven't found the missing chapter, but I will rewrite it. Hopefully it'll be as good.

--

They were climbing up the snowy slopes, drenched through from the ice, toward the summit where the God-Generals were waiting to end their long, drawn-out conflict. This battle would decide the fate of Auldrant, as it was Van's final stronghold.

And once more there was an ambush. Lloyd lay face down in the snowdrift, pounding the ground with a fist, cursing as many curses he knew. Once more he was powerless to stop the enemy from making off with a person he cared for. To his credit it was a full squadron of Oracle Knights, complete with fonists as well as a God-General to command them.

Lloyd rose from the snow, looking in the direction of the summit, where they had taken Luke. Arietta the Wild had led the assault and used her monsters and support fonic artes to separate Lloyd and Luke, then her forces kidnapped the passage commander--again. The brunette swordsman rubbed his temples, sighing deeply. Luke fon Fabre seemed rather prone to being kidnapped.

Their aim was obvious--kidnap Luke, keep him from operating passage rings. Van sure played dirty for one who was once a knight whose job it was to maintain order and virtue. Well, the operative word being "once." So Lloyd brushed the loose chunks of snow off him, hiking up to the summit.

Once he was close enough, he crouched behind a shelf of ice, peering around it to see the situation. The God-Generals were by themselves the summit. There was Arietta, Largo, Legretta, and Kratos. Cantabile was nowhere to be seen, probably taken back to Keterburg by the Oracle Knight squadron. Lloyd's breath hitched when he saw Luke. Arietta's monsters were guarding him in a thicket of evergreens frosted white.

To the far left looked to be a trail leading down. Lloyd edged closer, and his jaw unhinged: there was the golden-green glow of the Daathic Seal. So the passage ring was right there. But the commander was captured. Lloyd returned to the ice shelf. He couldn't expect to be able to command the ring, even if he managed to free Luke. They didn't have Ion, the only person able to break the Daathic Seal.

Legretta approached Largo and Arietta. Kratos stood to the right, by the main path up which Luke's friends would undoubtedly be showing up to fight. The Quick, Black Lion, and Wild conversed among themselves, then flanked Kratos. Lloyd looked where their lines of sight went--and had to shove a fist in his mouth to stifle a loud gasp.

There was Ion, climbing the main trail to the summit, flanked by Tear and none other than Asch, the man who was identical in almost every way to Luke. Asch went up to the summit carrying the air of a God-General, approaching the others as Asch the Bloody, not Asch the passage commander. He met with Kratos, and animated gestures suggested words being exchanged. Lloyd couldn't hear over the howling winds.

Kratos said something, something which made Asch blanch and step back. He made as if to draw his sword, Tear moving Ion behind her, knife drawn and beginning to glow with the gathering of fonons for fonic artes. That's when all hell broke loose. There was a brief skirmish, wherein Tear cast a Grand Cross and Asch unleashed a Shadow Fury, but the God-Generals moved quickly to evade the attacks and beat them back, quick to apprehend them.

"Dammit, what's going on?" Lloyd whispered to himself as Asch, Tear, and Ion were stripped of their weapons, being led to the side where more of Arietta's monsters were left to guard them. Ion was taken aside, to be given special protection as the one who was able to open the Daathic Seals.

Lloyd looked around some more, then shook his head. There was no way he could try to liberate anyone now. The God-Generals had hostages now, and if things got violent they wouldn't hesitate to kill Luke at least. Reluctant as he was to admit it, if Lloyd wanted to help them, he'd have to enlist ... allies. Allies that once belonged to Luke and Luke alone. Lloyd knelt behind his ice shelf, considering. When he looked to the cluster of evergreens where Luke was being held, he made his decision. Quietly as he could muster he crept down the path of ice.

-

Jade had moved their unit at a purposely slower pace than normally in a situation like this, but it was necessary if Asch's little plan was to work. Guy didn't complain so far, but he was worried for Tear and Ion, and nearly crazy with apprehension for Luke. Luke was by himself, and even if he had another swordsman with him there was no telling how long it would be before the lad got himself killed. Perhaps it was unfaithful to think that, but Luke was only seven years old, with little real battle experience when he had only one battle partner. Guy wanted to find Luke and do his job as his guardian, to keep him safe.

They weren't in bad shape, either. Even without Tear they had Natalia, and Jade was the best fonist there ever would be on Auldrant. Although Guy was worried for Tear and Ion, they did have Asch with them. Reluctant as Guy was to admit it, Asch was a formidable God-General, and an expert in the Albert sword style. Didn't hold water compared to Van, sadly. Van had the advantage of age, more time to have mastered his style.

They climbed Roneal's slope in the following formation--Guy and Anise in the front, Natalia in the middle, and Jade in the back. Even though Jade was technically leader of the ragtag war band, he needed to be in the back line to afford time to cast fonic artes. When the summit was on the horizon line, Jade slowed his pace, looking out to the flank of their unit.

Natalia slowed, too, and Anise followed suit. Guy was the last to halt, looking back curiously at the Colonel. He merely stood, not making any move. Guy quirked a brow.

"Jade? What's up?"

Jade assumed his battle stance, something that somewhat alarmed Guy. He drew his sword, and Anise and Natalia mirrored the action. Was it a monster ready to attack, or was it something altogether more sinister--the God-Generals, perhaps? But Jade made the first move. Calling his spear to his arm, he began gathering fonons, shouting (as was prudent enough for an avalanche zone),

"Show yourself or we will take initiative!"

Guy was more than ready to take action if something or someone threatened them. Auldrant's fate rested on their ability to take down the God-Generals and command the passage ring. They couldn't--they wouldn't die now!

Stumbling through the snowdrifts was a young man with unruly brown hair, wine red eyes, dressed in a red jacket, black pants, red gloves and boots--and he wore two one handed swords at his belt. Guy froze, eyes wide. This young man fit Ion's description of the same guy who ...

"Don't attack!" The boy said, coming before the group, hands upraised indicating he had no intention of attacking. He looked nervously at the armed procession, but that look in his eyes said he would defend himself if necessary. Jade gave them all a look, and reluctantly they lowered their weapons, but did not put them away. Jade came forward.

"May I ask who you are?"

The boy put his hands down, a small smile spreading on his face. "Give me your name and I shall give you mine! ... Is what I wanna say, but this is different. I'm Lloyd Irving, and Luke needs help."

Guy's draw dropped. "Lloyd Irving?" He repeated incredulously, "As in the guy who rescued Luke from Daath?"

Lloyd glanced at Guy, nodding once. He refocused his attention to Jade. "Anyway, we have a big problem here. At the summit, the God-Generals are waiting. They have Luke. And Asch, Ion, and Tear."

"What?" Natalia cried, gloved hand covering her mouth in shock. "But Asch had a plan ..."

"Which obviously didn't work!" Anise balled her hands into fists. "Oh! I know they won't hurt Ion or Tear, but Asch and Luke ..."

"Are both obstacles to Van's plan," Jade added, his hands in his pockets, a sign that he did not consider Lloyd hostile. "Maybe Luke told you about us, but I believe a proper introduction is due all the same. My name is Colonel Jade Curtiss, Third Division Malkuth Imperial Forces."

Natalia came to Lloyd's attention, giving a bow. "Natalia Luzu Kimlasca-Lanvaldear, crown princess of Kimlasca."

Anise sighed in annoyance before she went next. "Anise Tatlin. I'm one of Ion's Fon Master Guardians."

Lloyd's eye drifted back to Guy. Guy cleared his throat. "I'm Guy Cecil, Luke's servant and guardian."

Lloyd nodded, coming closer to the group. "Nice to meet you all. But we need to figure out how we're going to rescue them and command the passage ring."

"You seem to have a fair idea of what's going on," Jade observed with a slight smirk. "Did Luke tell you all this?"

Lloyd shifted uncomfortably, not liking being put on the spot, especially by someone like Jade. "Well, Ion did, too."

"That's not important," Natalia said. "How many of the God-Generals are up there? Sync is dead, but ..."

"Kratos the Ardent," Lloyd supplied, "as well as Legretta the Quick, Arietta the Wild, and Largo the Black Lion. Cantabile was injured in an earlier fight--me and Luke against her and Kratos, and she was sent back to the city."

"Well we need to rescue Tear, Ion, and Luke." Anise interjected. "They're the only ones who can operate the ring."

"I think we need to improvise Asch's original plan." Guy said. He seemed to have been left out of the discussion, so he decided to add. "We need to distract them with a battle, and have someone rescue everyone so they can go command the ring."

"I agree!" Natalia smiled, looking Guy's way, which made the swordsman avert his gaze to the ground.

"Hmm," Jade cupped his chin in thought. "A fair plan, but there are only five, well, six of us now. Since there are five God-Generals, we'll need a good number of people to occupy them to the point they won't notice immediately if their hostages go missing. But we'll need at least two people to rescue the ones to operate the passage ring."

"I'll help rescue," Lloyd said firmly. "I'm responsible for letting them get a hold of Luke anyway."

"I'll go, too," Guy said suddenly. When Lloyd gave him a quizzical glance, he said, "We don't know if you're not secretly working with Van."

Jade sighed, adjusting his glasses. "While I agree with you, Guy, that would leave me, Natalia, and Anise alone to fight the God-Generals. Three fonists against the God-Generals. Not the smartest idea."

But Guy still didn't want to leave the task of rescuing the others to Lloyd alone. So he opted, "Then we'll rescue Asch, give him his equipment, and he can help."

Jade mulled it over. After a long time for thinking, he decided, "Yes, that will work just as well. Are we agreed?"

"Yes," Natalia said, and Anise murmured, "No objections."

Jade approached Lloyd, offering a hand to shake. "Welcome to the group, Lloyd. I do hope you'll be useful in this operation."

Lloyd was uncomfortable at Jade and his tone, but he accepted the hand anyway. "All right. I won't let you down!"


	24. Prelude to Faceoff

A/N: This chapter is technically a work in progress (on paper), but after looking over the last chapter, I can do a lot if I altered a few things ...

--

From where they were on the mountain path, it didn't take long to reach the summit. It shouldn't take long to reach the summit. But when the summit still towered above them, close enough that those on top couldn't possibly see them, Jade decided to stake out an icy outcropping near a frozen stream and announce with a honeyed voice,

"Why don't we take a rest here for a while?"

Lloyd stared at Jade incredulously, eyes wide, jaw slack. He approached Jade, pointing to their destination, struggling to keep his tone even, "Shouldn't we be, uh, marching up there?"

But the others already were setting up a temporary camp, nothing like tents or anything, just a simple place to rest until they were ready to move on. The blizzard had left no particularly treacherous weather patterns in its wake, just a wind that howled among the peaks. They set their packs down, making themselves comfortable, Guy and Anise scooping snow to make a fire pit. Lloyd and Jade were the only ones standing.

"Oh, we'll be going up there soon enough," Jade said, moving his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger, the glare on the lens, even with the weak sunlight, hiding his eyes.

"Hello? People's lives, not just ours, are at stake here!" Lloyd protested. Even as Guy and Anise worked on getting a fire going, they gave looks to Lloyd. They weren't glares precisely, but the intent was less than friendly. Jade turned back to Lloyd, that small smile as unconcerned as can be.

"They probably won't kill the hostages anytime soon--" Had it not been Jade who said it, Lloyd would have probably understood.

"How can you talk like that!" Lloyd snapped, face contorted in anger. He took long strides toward Jade, grabbing the soldier by the lapels. It didn't matter that Jade was taller. "They are alone and defenseless in enemy territory and all you can say is 'they probably won't kill the hostages' ! We don't know what they will do! In fact, they could solve all Van's problems right now if the God-Generals killed even one of them!"

Silence but for the wind as Anise put whatever dry wood was around in the fire pit, Guy fumbling with the matches. Natalia had small frown, olive green eyes downcast into the blue-white snow. Separated, their forces divided and less powerful; the emotional fuse was sparking. The princess averted her gaze to her teammates building the fire--suddenly she noticed that Guy was fumbling with the matches because his hands were shaking. His brow was furrowed, an angry frown engraved in his face.

Jade didn't even break a sweat. He calmly, effortlessly raised his hands and pried Lloyd's off his collar, released one. The other wrist he held firmly. He spoke as if he were dealing with a child.

"You really don't understand the situation. Asch, Ion, Tear, Luke. Of those, who is most disposable?"

"What the hell kind of question is that!" Lloyd spat, trying to wrench his wrist from Jade's grip, with little success.

"Objectively, Tear is most disposable. Van doesn't need her for his plan, as she decided to fight against him. But emotionally, it's a different matter. Strange for wanting to wipe out all humanity, he doesn't have the will to kill his own sister."

Lloyd froze, eyes wide. Van and Tear were ... siblings?

"After Tear," Jade continued, "Ion would be disposable, but only after he opened the Sephiroth for Van, so Ion is still safe. The only one who they would readily kill without a second thought, without regard to Van's orders if they thought it would truly serve his purpose, is Luke."

Lloyd clenched his teeth, made a sharp downward motion with his arm; it came free of Jade's grip. "So what are you saying? That Luke doesn't matter? We can just leave him to die?"

"Oh! Such words you're putting in my mouth!" Jade's tone was cheerful, but his eyes had no such light. "Really, if I wanted him left for dead, I'd have done so at Akzeriuth."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Guy, where he had been angry or frustrated at Lloyd's attitude a moment ago, was sullen, along with Anise. Natalia looked away. As if averting her eyes would make a difference.

Lloyd looked at their faces, brow quirked, not quite understanding. He brushed it off; it must've been sometime before Luke was imprisoned at Daath. If they'd been fighting with Van and the God-Generals for that long, it should be expected that there'd be some tough spots. Lloyd himself remembered many from his own journey. So many times where someone was in danger of dying when they were fighting impossible odds.

"My point is," Jade said levelly, making eye contact with Lloyd, "Luke is not completely invaluable as a hostage. To them, he's a nuisance commanding the passage rings, yes, but the only case I imagine they would actually kill him without orders from Van first would be to deal a blow to our morale, and they have Asch in their possession, whom Van apparently needs for his vision to work. The only reason they haven't done that already and left the area with Asch, Ion, and Tear is because Van ordered them to do or die here."

"I can't wrap my head around all that," Lloyd said, softer than his harsh tones earlier, "but they won't kill Luke right away?"

"In all likelihood, no." Jade answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"So what are we doing, Jade?" Guy asked, his usual disposition regained as he struck multiple matches, nursing a small flame. Jade was a soldier, and military strategies were his expertise. Especially with Tear gone, he was the best choice for making battle plans.

"We're still rescuing them, right?" Anise asked, though it seemed she was asking for Luke more than anyone else. Tear they would need, not just for passage commanding, and Ion they needed to open the seals and lead Daath. But Luke ... if Luke somehow got killed, they'd still have Asch to command rings.

"Of course, Anise." Natalia replied. She sounded more confident than she felt. They could have the best laid plans on Auldrant and something could go wrong at the drop of a hat.

Jade nodded, at ease with his hands pocketed. "Yes, why ever should you doubt me, Anise?" He ignored the honey brown eyes glaring daggers at him. "We do need to properly plan this out, which is why we've stopped here, Lloyd. As this is Van's final stronghold, their defenses will be great, so we need to be prepared. First order of business, how to go about rescuing the hostages. Guy's suggestion of improvising Asch's original plan is good, but I'm afraid I'll be making some arrangements."

Lloyd tilted his head to one side, giving Jade a sideways look. "What do you mean by that?"

Jade smirked under his glasses. "You're not going to rescue anybody. You're going to fight on the front lines with me, Guy, and Natalia against the God-Generals."

"I told you I was going to help--"

"As Guy said before, we don't know you or if we can trust you. So I'm going to keep an eye on you until we get to know you better, Lloyd Irving." Jade said with a frightening finality that had Lloyd going silent. "Now," Jade looked at Anise, "Anise will go rescue the hostages. Your priority is Asch first, so he can help you rescue the others."

As Jade went on about the plan to distract the God-Generals with a fight and have Luke go command the ring behind the scenes, Lloyd was silently fuming. Trust wasn't an issue that he had to deal with, not when he was on the receiving end of such suspicion. On his journey, his main concern was being able to trust other people, not other people being able to trust him. Then again, on his previous journey, everyone had known him to some degree ...

This wasn't good. Lloyd had no obligation to these people. He only sought them out because he couldn't rescue Luke and Ion on his own. His mission was to help the Light of the Sacred Flame, the scion of the Spirit that had caused Origin to call him out here. Above all else Lloyd was loyal to Origin and Origin alone. And these people were hindering him on his mission ... and if what Jade said was true about Luke being the most disposable of the group, things didn't look good.

Lloyd clenched his fists, grit his teeth. He hated things happening that he couldn't help right before his eyes. Saving the world and saving the people right in front of him were not exclusive of one another, and if Luke died, Auldrant was gone for sure.

"So Guy will be on the front line with Lloyd, with me and Natalia on the back line," Jade said, breaking Lloyd's train of thought. "We know Largo, Legretta, and Arietta, but we need to be careful around Kratos. We don't know his fighting style or his strengths or weaknesses."

"I do." Lloyd said, attracting the gazes of the others. He didn't like the way Jade looked at him. It was so ... disturbing. He tried to ignore the Colonel's stare. "It's like Luke's style, what was it ... the Albert style? Yeah. He can use mid-level fonic artes, and the Seventh Fonon. But he's fast, in using techniques and fonic artes. The only ones here who can match his speed are me and Guy."

"Interesting," Jade said, a strange smile spread across his face, which made Lloyd uneasy. "So you know Kratos?"

There was a brief moment of silence but for the icy wind and the crackling of the struggling campfire. Lloyd's brow furrowed, a small frown forming on his face.

"Not as well as I'd like." he said, staring at the snow underfoot. "I fought him several times, but he was always holding back."

"Why would you need to fight him?" Guy asked, warming his hands by the fire. "I understand you were helping Luke, so sooner or later you would come into conflict with the God-Generals ..."

"Well, yeah, that too." Lloyd replied. "But he has my father's sword. I want to get that back."

"So the world is in danger, and you would help save it only to reclaim your father's sword?" Natalia quirked a brow. She did not say it unkindly, but with the way it was said ... this young man was unusually calm for being involved in a life or death struggle for all of Auldrant.

"No!" Lloyd protested at Natalia, looking genuinely hurt. "Of course I want to save the world! I just ..."

Natalia averted her gaze, suddenly ashamed. "I'm sorry. I had no right to say such a thing ..."

Uncomfortable silence settled over the temporary camp. Lloyd dug his feet into the snow, arms folded, frustrated. He had no problem making friends and allies before ... why now was he having such difficulty? Too much was happening too fast. If something was done soon, the consequences would be disastrous. Luke would die, they would die, the world would die. There was even more stress and emotional messes in this situation because their friends were in danger, Lloyd's friend was in danger, and he was trying to take up leadership to rescue them, but Jade wouldn't let him be the leader, which made Lloyd hotheaded and angry, which rubbed everyone else the wrong way ...

Lloyd would have screamed if he weren't in an avalanche zone. It just wasn't _fair._ He wanted to help, but the way the situation was, there was nothing he could do except follow other people's orders. Lloyd wasn't good at following orders. He was the leader, he made his own decisions ... ! And there was so much more at stake here than everyone else thought. What would happen back home if Lloyd couldn't get there ever again? He made a pact ... he promised ...

"Well!" Anise said, raising her hands into the air, "All this perpetual gloominess is doing us no good! We need optimism if we wanna win this!"

Lloyd spun around to look at the young Fon Master Guardian. He nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Words have power, right?! Let's say it out loud right now--we will save Luke and the world!"

"That's the spirit!" Anise's grin was ear to ear. "We will save Luke and the world!"

"If you're so raring to go," Jade shrugged, "then I guess we should begin the operation. Everyone, you know your positions. Let us begin."

The fire was doused, everyone was making ready to march once again. The formation would be as followed--Lloyd and Guy in the front, Natalia in the middle, and then Jade on the rear line. Once they got close enough to the summit, Anise was to branch off and being her own covert operation.

As they trudged through the snow again, Lloyd mouthed those words to himself over and over again. We will save Luke and the world, we will save Luke and the world, we will save Luke and the world! He truly believed that words had such power. He said them once, and it followed through. This time he wouldn't make any mistakes. No more mistakes, no more lives lost because of them.

He would save Luke and the world.

--

A/N: I'm sorry! I wanted to keep the Roneal segment as short as possible, but everything keeps dragging its feet! It's driving me crazy. And I hate the last chapter. It's so short and choppy. Arugh! But I hope you'll be happy with this for now.


	25. Battle On Roneal's Slopes

A/N: I apologize for the long wait. I waited until I got a good chunk of it on paper (so I won't screw up my synopsis ...).

--

Luke was, simply put, embarrassed. After all he had said and done, after everything he put the others--and Lloyd--through (sheer hell and back), he managed to fail spectacularly. Again. Arietta, leading her monsters and a unit of Oracle Knights, had employed the same tactic that got Luke imprisoned in Daath in the first place--separate with numbers, and go for the kill. Figuratively, or else Luke wouldn't be here now. The last thing Luke had seen as Arietta's hawk friend flew off with him in its talons was Lloyd fighting impossible numbers of Oracle Knights in the deepening snow. And now Luke was with the supply train, away from the summit in a small forest of snow capped evergreens, guarded by three Roneal native wolves, Arietta's monsters no doubt watching over the outer area.

He was still fully equipped, Vorpal Sword and all, but Luke was by himself, and even he didn't think he could fighting off everything at once. If he resisted, doubtless the monsters would kill him this time. After all, Van had no real need of Luke. The God-Generals probably only kept him alive to kill the morale of the others--without a passage commander, the Roneal ring could not be commanded. Luke grit his teeth together, drawing the attention of the Roneal wolves. It was so very frustrating to not only be imprisoned again, but to know what was happening and yet unable to do a thing to help. He stared at the wolves, large, brawny, snow white to blend in with the snowy landscape. He gripped the hilt of Vorpal. There had to be some way to keep them at bay long enough to escape to find help.

Luke tilted his head back, looking skyward. A small dot circling overhead marked the hawk's position; the liger could not be seen from where he was. The only monsters immediately around him were the Roneal wolves. Arietta's friends probably asked them to help; they had no real obligation to fulfill their duty of guarding Luke. If he could just discourage the wolves from attacking him to kill or even better just plain attacking, he'd have enough time to get away. Luke drew Vorpal, using it as a catalyst for drawing in immense amounts of Fourth Fonons. He was pretty good with the Fourth Fonon, and not to use it when it was so abundant was criminal. He built up the power in his fon slots, preparing to shape it--the wolves barked at him, a frightening noise, a warning to stop what he was doing. Luke gulped down the lump in his throat, continuing his syphoning of Fourth Fonons.

One of the wolves lunged, jaws yawned wide, razor sharp fangs protruding. Luke, struggling to maintain his arte, swung at the beast with Vorpal once, and punched it with a Fourth Fonon gloved hand, the Frigid Blast encasing the wolf's body in pure ice. The monster howled, unable to move. The remaining two wolves rushed in for the kill; Luke stabbed one through, blood spurting everywhere, almost steaming in the cold Roneal air. The last wolf growled low in its throat, golden eyes hostile. It leapt at Luke, jaws clamping down on his arm.

"D-dammit!" Luke screeched, flares of pain lanced up his arm, but he wore his layers for Roneal well--the fangs did not penetrate his skin. It hurt like hell, and there were holes in his coat and shirt, but not in his skin. For that he was glad. Luke forced it off him; it released his arm but, so much bigger than him, bowled him over again, this time lunging for the throat.

_Clash._

Luke struggled under the weight of the wolf, big and brawny, the indigo blade of Vorpal caught in the beast's jaws. He was almost nose to nose with the wolf, beads of sweat rolling down his face. The experience was quite unnerving, so close again to Death. The wolf began tugging at the blade, trying to wrench it from his prey. Rivulets of blood stained the wolf's fur, red streaming from its mouth where Vorpal cut.

"S-stop! _Icicle!"_

The snow around them shifted, changed, building up, solidifying into a jagged point--the wolf yowled, ice white fur stained with crimson blood. Luke scrambled to his feet, Vorpal scratched but otherwise intact. Blood flowed like a fountain, a pool of red on the snow. As once it did when Luke watched the Liger Queen die, he felt a heartstring tense, almost snap. How cruel ... but he couldn't dwell here. The hawk and liger brother would sense almost immediately something was wrong. The hawk he could probably handle but the liger brother ... on his own, the liger brother spelled his doom. He hesitated, looking back and forth between the frozen half-alive wolf and the one impaled. Biting his lip, Luke fled the scene, the death cries of the beasts ringing in his ears.

--

Everything was going according to plan. Anise had set off to free the hostages (woe to those Oracle Knights unfortunate enough to be bashed in by Tokunaga's paws) and Guy, Natalia, and the new young man Lloyd were accompanying Jade to engage the God-Generals. But as they climbed the icy summit, Jade could not help but feel something was amiss, like a gear missing a tooth. The only liabilities in this operation were Luke (problem child had a difficult time knowing when to wait and when to act) and Lloyd. While Jade still didn't completely trust Luke, he trusted him more than the stranger, Lloyd. He came across to the Colonel as the idealistic, young and brash sort, and maybe a little arrogant, if the way he butt heads with Jade earlier was any indication.

The way Lloyd wanted to rush in with the thought of only saving the lives of those at stake reminded Jade, almost disturbingly, of Luke. However misguided, Luke's desire to save people in danger was always real, always had been, always would. Although his brunette counterpart seemed a little wiser to the ways of the world, he was still naive, still a fiery hothead, and if left unchecked, that desire to help people any way he could might result in another Akzeriuth.

Another Akzeriuth was not something Jade would let happen. That was why he deigned to keep Lloyd in the party that would fight the God-Generals. The last thing they needed was another well-meaning problem child running amok, so it was best to leash him and keep an eye on him. But it didn't seem Lloyd would go down without a fight. That he so readily agreed to follow instead of lead after Anise had spoken to him left Jade a little uneasy. The fact that this young man was a complete stranger did not make it any better. Young men liked to pretend to lead, but it was the experience men, the soldier, the commander, that led. And Jade had no intention of giving up that leadership.

-

At last, the snowy ground leveled out, and before them stood what was left of the God-Generals. Largo stood in front, as the shield to protect Legretta and Arietta behind him. Beside Largo stood a red haired man cloaked in black hemmed with purple--the mantle of a God-General, a sword of flame belted to his waist. Jade could only assume this was the Kratos the Ardent that Lloyd had mentioned earlier. The older swordsman stepped forward, toward the enemy formation--Lloyd and Guy on the front line, Natalia and Jade in the rear line. Kratos's wine red eyes narrowed, fixed on the enemy.

"So you've come," as if he hadn't honestly been expecting them to show at all.

"Is there no other way to settle this?" Lloyd asked, brow knit, frowning. Kratos smirked.

"Is that how you think. You'll die if you fight us with any doubts left in your hearts."

"Precisely," Natalia nocked an arrow to her bow, "which is why we have no doubts! We will preserve these Outer Lands!"

"If you're willing to give your lives and more to realize Van's replica word," Guy gripped the hilt of his katana, pale sunlight glinting off the blade, "then we must measure to your resolve."

Jade began to gather ambient fonons, his crimson eyes seeming to glow. "As a soldier I have killed and come to terms with its necessity to defend oneself or country. However, a global murder frenzy indiscriminate is something I cannot condone."

"Say what you will," Largo replied, scythe at the ready. "If even a princess is truly resolved to fight to the death, then there is no need for words. Come, let us crush you!"

All hell broke loose. Legretta opened fire, a hail of bullets, Arietta cast supportive fonic artes for her allies, and Largo and Kratos hacked and slashed at Lloyd and Guy. Lloyd ducked under the scythe blade, somersaulting, rushing for Legretta instead, who turned her guns on him. Guy sidestepped Kratos's sword, fonons swirling in his fon slots, glowing with a soft blue aura, the light of Fourth Fonons. A flick of his wrist, the arc of the blade in its wake left the air a frozen crescent, like a crescent moon. The Frigid Moon grazed Kratos's shoulder, but stagger he did not.

Natalia cast a few quick Barriers on herself and Jade, and Sharpens for Lloyd and Guy before firing arrows at Arietta to stop her casting. Jade, quite accomplished and efficient in his fonic artes First through Sixth, targeted Largo, who was advancing toward the rear line while Guy and Lloyd were occupied. Jade let loose an Absolute, ice forming on Largo, freezing his legs, working up to his scythe arm. Largo noted this and utilized his body's own Fifth Fonons to break the ice. Break, but not melt; hypothermia was a formidable enemy as well. Jade smirked; the Black Lion was no fonist, but he used fonons well.

As he gathered fonons for another go at Largo, he was secretly pleased with himself--without the need for constant orders from the commander, his team adjusted their basic strategies well as the battle situation changed. For example, Largo was a man of physical might, to be brought down with fonic artes. Guy and even Lloyd elected not to fight Largo, instead going for Legretta and Kratos, fighters they were a match for. Lloyd chose an especially good opponent--with Legretta occupied, her long range gunfire wouldn't reach the rear line. Obviously the lad must have been in quite a few life or death battles himself, and knew how to work with a team, even if he wasn't the one leading it. But as the fight wore on, the God-Generals unleashing their most powerful techniques, and their enemy responding likewise, Jade knew something was very very wrong. The toothless cog was causing the perfect, well-oiled machine to jam, shutting down completely. He only wished he had the power to prevent it.

No such luck.

--

Anise slunk around the snow, sneaking from tree to tree in the area where the God-Generals had their supply train wait. It was far from the battlefield, a standard military tactic--supplies, and especially captives, were best kept away from the immediate battle so the enemy forces didn't have a chance to cut them off. Which was why separate troops (if they could be spared) were usually dispatched specifically for dealing with the supply train.

Fortunately, the God-Generals couldn't bring a large number of Oracle Knights with them in the Roneal mountain range, so the number of guards was sure to be small. The only tricky bit was surviving long enough to free Asch, Tear, Luke, or Ion, whichever came first, preferably the one of the first three to help fight.

As she neared a few Oracle guards, Anise smirked. As long as it was only two, or even three, Oracle Knights, they'd be no match for her fonic artes and Tokunaga's plushy fists. Quick casting was her specialty, plus she had the Mystic Mark on her. She hugged a snow capped evergreen, peering around the trunk. The light of a nearby campfire cast splayed shadows and yellow-orange light on the snow. An oasis of warmth in these frozen hinterlands.

There were two Oracle Knights, with a black horse laden with supplies, and--here Anise's breath hitched--Tear. She wasn't bound, just disarmed; the guards probably packed the staff and knives on the horse. It didn't appear as if she was being mistreated, either, something Anise noted with relief. Not that she'd think Tear would take that sort of thing lying down. Even without her staff, Tear's hymns and fonic artes were quite potent. In fact, she could have escaped with her hymns, but alone in enemy territory, she probably figured it was best to stay put until definite help arrived.

Anise crept closer, using the plentiful trees as cover, until she was close enough to really feel the heat of the campfire. The knights were eating beef stew, and Tear had a bowl for herself as well.

"Damn it's cold," one knight said, helm tucked under his arm as he spooned stew into his mouth. Brown gravy dribbled down his chin; he licked it off. He was older, but still young in his early or mid thirties. He looked rugged, the tired sort of soldier who'd been fighting someone else's wars his whole life. "First that disaster of a war on the Rugnica Plains, now they drag us all the way out here? I hate Daath. It's not my war, dammit."

His companion, a man much younger (presumably in his twenties), bowed his head as he ate. "If you hate Daath so much, then why--?" he looked to be the faithful sort. The sort of unthinking pawn that Van needed in large numbers. The older knight scoffed. " 'Cause I ain't got any place else to go. My family stole from Daath's treasury, and the judgment for the crime was a lifetime service in the Oracle Knights."

A death sentence, Anise thought. Outright executions weren't in Daath's taste, or apparent in Yulia's teachings, so they were to be killed while serving Yulia and upholding the Score. She read that Fon Master Evenos was particularly fond of such tactics when dealing with criminals. Tear held her silence, but her visible ocean blue eye was locked with Anise's honey brown ones. Anise lifted Tokunaga from her shoulders, nodding at Tear. She made no move, but Anise didn't expect her to, since she was in enemy company. Tear finished her bowl of stew, while the knights continued talking among themselves, never noticing. Tear sat up tall, breathing in deeply. She opened her mouth, and sang.

"The hell?" The first knight blinked. He sunk to his knees, eyes heavy, dropping his bowl on the ground. The second knight was on all fours, trying to keep awake. In the end, it was futile, and the knights succumbed to slumber in the frigid snow. Tear stood, approached pack horse, and recovered her equipment. She placed her knives in their holsters, her mother's pendant around her neck, staff in hand. She joined Anise in the thick clumps of trees, ready for battle.

"All right!" Anise put Tokunaga back on her shoulders, a wolfish grin on her face. "Now we've gotta get Luke, Asch, and Ion, then help the Colonel!"

Tear firmly gripped her staff, feeling the weight of her mother's star sapphire on her chest as if a white hot brand scalded her skin. Her ocean eyes narrowed, cold, hard. Frozen.

"Very well."

--

Lloyd didn't know exactly when it happened. He had been doing pretty well against Legretta--so well, in fact, he'd managed to knock one of her handguns fro her. But in a matter of seconds, he found himself flung across the snow, side gashed open, weeping blood on Roneal's white ice. He twisted around, body flaring with excruciating pain, trying to just see. Guy was similarly injured; even still, he tried to fend off Largo while Jade and Natalia fumbled with healing and fonic artes to support the broken front line. Legretta was recovering her gun, Arietta was casting for her Evil Light, Largo continued to assault Guy, and Kratos--Lloyd blinked, wine red eyes going wide. Kratos was ... gone.

Lloyd pressed a hand to his side, muttering a quick fon verse under his breath. The soft glow of Seventh Fonons engulfed his side, and the pain began to ebb. He scrambled to his feet, his external fon slots open to full capacity, searching for Kratos's unique fonic signature. His jaw dropped. Kratos--had left the battle after wounding Lloyd, and there was only one other place he'd go. He had headed for the supply train, for the captives ... ! Without thinking, he sped past the chaotic battle, leaping over a snow dune, following Kratos's fonic trail. If Kratos got to the captives first--it was all over. Lloyd rushed forward, deaf to all behind.

-

Jade faltered--an unpardonable mistake when casting a high-level fonic arte--and fell, leg grazed by one of Legretta's bullets, even from so far back. His glasses slipped, but he never noticed, struggling to maintain his fonic arte. He couldn't believe it--Lloyd had just up and run off! Left the fray, left Guy, Natalia, and Jade to fend for themselves, when they were already fighting a very difficult, if not losing, battle. Jade frowned, and with a flick of his wrist executed his Thunder Blade. Arietta cried out, crumpled in the snow, incapacitated, by the electric arte. One down. Killing them could wait until they themselves survived the battle. Guy was struggling against Largo, but Jade had to concentrate on Legretta now, for she was a menace long-range and close up.

"Natalia, support Guy!" Jade ordered, kneeling to spare his injured leg, syphoning Fourth Fonons in rapid succession.

"I'm on it!" Natalia cried, chanting the fon verse for a Barrier. Legretta aimed at Jade, letting loose a grand flurry of bullets. Jade rolled to the right, dodging them. He lost many of his fonons, but there were so many Fourth Fonons around it didn't matter much.

"Arise, O violent waters, to route mine enemies!" Legretta aimed at him, but it was too late. "Blessed Drops!"

Legretta screamed, the water pressure boring down on her. But it wasn't so much that as being soaked to the bone at high altitudes on Mount Roneal. She lay in the snow, unmoving. All that was left was to wait for the hypothermia to claim her. In the meantime, there was Largo. Yet something happened that Jade had foreseen but had hoped against hope would not happen.

The earth under Roneal's ice rumbled.

--

"Luke!" Lloyd called, sliding down packed snow. The red-haired swordsman turned, jade eyes wide, a small smile upon his face. Finally, help had come. Luke ran to rejoin Lloyd, asking, "What's up?" with a quirked brow. Lloyd looked wildly in all directions, his eyes full of panic.

"We've gotta find Ion and command the ring. Now."

"Well, yeah, I understand the importance, but why the urgency?" Luke asked. Lloyd was still searching among the frozen evergreens, blue winds howling.

"There's a God-General around here."

--

Ion knew he needed to save his strength, but he also needed to open the Daathic seal. He saw it just before he, Asch, and Tear were apprehended and kept here. He couldn't fight to get out, and if he used a Daathic fonic arte, he was sure to be too weak to open the seal. However, he had an idea. He stood, garnering the attention of the two Oracle Knights guarding him. Neither drew swords, although one did say,

"Please, Fon Master. We've no wish to hurt you."

"I am the supreme leader of the Order of Lorelei." Ion stated boldly, gripping his staff, topped with a golden Yulian tuning fork, tightly. "While the God-Generals are busy killing themselves, won't you take me to the Daathic seal?" The knights blanched.

"But, Fon Master--!"

"That wasn't a request." Ion's vibrant green eyes narrowed dangerously. The knights exchanged glances, non-verbally asking, what were they to do? Indeed the God-Generals were killing themselves, and they couldn't afford to have Ion hurt or killed, especially if he attacked them with a Daathic fonic arte. What were they to do?

"V-very well, Fon Master on."

Skirting around the battlefield wasn't hard. In fact, it was made all the easier by the two knights who were oh so generous enough to escort him. Ion felt bad for threatening them, but at the same time he was sick of being pushed around by everyone else in the Order. The God-Generals, Van, and Mohs all thought of Ion as some figurehead with no real power, just because he was a replica. So what if he was only a replica? So what if he was only two years old? He had the original Ion's abilities, his face, his name. And he inherited the Order which the original had led. Ion decided after he was kidnapped for the umpteenth time that he was done being knocked down. Ion would stand on his own.

As they crept down the trail that led to the Daathic seal, they heard the commotion of battle not too far away. But judging from the noise, Ion presumed that only Largo and perhaps Kratos were left standing, as he felt no fonic activity from either Legretta or Arietta. Thinking of Arietta made Ion feel guilty, but he forced himself to keep moving. The arches of the Daathic seal greeted him, glowing yellow green, giving life to the pale snow around it.

Ion placed both palms flat on the barrier, murmuring the fon verse to break the seal. The seal seemed to be a vacuum for his Seventh Fonons, vanishing in layers. Ion felt his strength sap quickly, and as soon as the seal was gone, he collapsed inside the archway.

"Fon Master!" The Oracle Knights gathered him up in their arms. The first knight pressed a palm to Ion's forehead. Even through the leather of his glove, the knight felt the fever. "We have to get him a place to rest." Both knights silently agreed that outside was not a fitting place--cold, windy, and the noise of the ongoing battle would do nothing for Ion's health. They had medicine, but no healing artes. Taking care of Ion was the best thing they could do. Gathering up their courage, they took Ion deeper inside the passage the seal had led to.

Outside, the earth rumbled.

--

Finding Asch was easy. Asch was not one to play the damsel in distress, and he'd taken it upon himself to get free on his own. He had beaten the knight with his sword with his bare hands, wrested the Maestro Sword free, and sliced the other knight to ribbons. The first knight had begged for his life, but letting him live meant one more soldier for Van, one more ounce of strength to his already overwhelming power. So Asch cut the soldier down. The campsite was a bloody spot on the earth when Tear and Anise had arrived.

"Asch the Bloody, indeed." Tear said, but not unkindly. Asch said nothing, pilfering the pack horse of any and all food, water, and medicine he could carry. Once he was finished, he approached the women Oracle Knights.

"So we're going to fight the God-Generals?" He asked. "What about Ion and the dreck?"

"Well, we know they're not going to be killed, at least not right away." Anise said. "So I think the best thing we can do is help the Colonel. I still don't trust that Lloyd guy, anyway."

Tear nodded. "I agree. If the Colonel needs no help, we'll come back."

Asch shrugged. "Works for me. Let's go."

--

"It's Kratos, isn't it?" Luke massaged his temples, sighing. He felt more tired than panicky the way Lloyd did. But Lloyd shook his head. "Yeah, but he means to kill you for good this time!" Luke arched a brow.

"How do you 'kill someone for good' ? Being dead is permanent."

"That's not the point!" Lloyd flailed his arms, exasperated. "He left the battle to come here! Doesn't that say something to you?"

Luke grit his teeth. "It raises concern, yeah." He knew he ought to be alert, but he felt so tired--he was tired of all the running, tired of all the confusion, tired of all the fighting ... tired of Van, tired of the God-Generals.

But Lloyd was still full of energy as ever. "Then let's go find Ion and the ring ASAP!" he grabbed Luke's wrist, half-dragging him through the snow in the direction of the Daathic seal. He'd seen the Oracle Knights guarding Ion head that way before he left to get help earlier. Luke struggled to keep up to Lloyd's amazing pace through the snow, a little embarrassed to be dragged along by the wrist.

But there was nothing wrong with letting someone else help him carry the burden, right? When he got tired, he could always ask for help, right? He let Lloyd take the lead, while he followed--and some of his sapped strength returned to him, bit by bit as they neared the Daathic seal.

"Huh?" Lloyd ducked under the empty archway. "It's ... gone? But then--"

"Ion must be in there." Luke said, entering the archway. "I always knew he was smart and strong, but I hope he didn't overexert himself to get this far."

"Uh, Luke ..." Lloyd followed, albeit very slowly, eyes fixed on the snow outside.

"What is it?" Luke turned, his voice echoing in the bluish white of the passage in the mountain. Lloyd didn't move, fixed to his spot. Then Luke could feel it, too--in the structure of the passage ring, it was fainter, but--the earth rumbled. Each passing second it got stronger, steadily stronger, but what could--

"Holy mother of Martel ..." Lloyd's voice was no more than a ghost of a whisper. Suddenly he sprinted past Luke, screaming, "It's an avalanche!"

"What!" Luke lunged after him, but he had no need to question it--the snow outside rushed down the mountain, the small archway letting in mounds of ice and snow. Three great shudders of the earth later, Luke and Lloyd had fallen on the ground, unable to keep their feet. The mountainside rumbled for a while longer, then stilled. Luke winced at his bruises as he got to his feet. He glanced over his shoulder. The door was completely blocked by impossible amounts of snow.

"Oh, great." Luke sighed, rubbing his eyes. He walked up to the door, pressing his hands on the blockade of snow. It didn't shift. Abruptly he remembered that the others--Tear--was out there. He banged his fists on the wall of snow, screaming, "No! No! No! Not here! Why!" He slid to the floor on his knees, futilely striking at the snow blocking the door.

Lloyd stood, unmoving. The avalanche had to have covered the summit, too, where the God-Generals and the others were battling. He was ... uncertain of how he should feel. He didn't know them for very long at all, but he still felt immeasurable guilt for what happened. Even if avalanches were natural disasters. He clenched his fists at his sides.

"C'mon, Luke, cheer up! Jade wouldn't have let it end like this, right? He's a master fonist! And you told me Tear had hymns that could help protect everyone--"

"Shut up!" Luke hissed, and Lloyd stopped, taken aback. "Tear was separated from everyone else! And not even Jade could protect against an avalanche! And I--I--" He rubbed furiously at his eyes, standing up. He stared at the wall. "Let's go, Lloyd. The best thing we can do for now is command the ring."

As Luke walked past him, Lloyd could do nothing but gape. His eyes lingered on Luke's retreating back. He had been called here to help Luke, to help this word ... but he couldn't help but wonder if his being here was causing more harm than help.

Origin had been wrong before.


	26. The Roneal Sephiroth

A/N: I apologize for the extra week's wait.

--

In the city of Keterburg, and even beyond Sylvana's icy shores, no mountain was ever feared and held in such respect as Mt. Roneal. Its jagged peaks jutted into the frosty sky, higher than any other mountain had been. The monsters that made its home in its deep caverns and crevasses were of the toughest breed. And Nature's wrath there had claimed the lives of nearly all who sought to conquer the mountain.

Nearly.

"Yulia's Score!" Guy swore vehemently as he pawed his way out of waist-deep snow, "You sure have uncanny timing, Tear. Any later and--"

"We'd be dead." Jade finished, already standing atop the blanket of snow that had threatened to swallow them whole in the avalanche. He surveyed the summit, the former battleground between they and the God-Generals. It was true that Kratos had left in the middle of the fight, but there wasn't any way that the Ardent could have started the avalanche. The time between his leaving and the avalanche occurring was too short. The noise of the battle must've caused it.

Jade turned and assisted Guy to get above ground--the women knew their touch wouldn't help him. On the contrary, if they tried to help him out of the snow, Guy would have reacted adversely, which might have buried him under the snow. Asch was still getting himself on his feet, and Jade personally doubted whether he would help the former servant after said servant had snubbed the original for the replica.

"Thank Anise," Tear said, brushing her dress free of ice. "She made it possible for me to be here in time." She looked around. Even the trees had been completely submerged. They were lucky indeed--Tear had in fact gotten here in time to cast a protective hymn, but they still had gotten their fair share of snow. At the least, they were alive and all things considered, they were quite lucky. The God-Generals, it seemed, were not so fortunate.

"It appears they've been swept down the ravine," Natalia said, as if she had read Tear's mind. Not that it was much of a surprise; it was bound to be noticed if the God-Generals were missing.

"But what about Ion and the others?" Anise asked, biting her lip, honey brown eyes welling up. Indeed, despite having successfully rescued Tear and Asch, she hadn't managed to procure Ion--or Luke--before the avalanche hit.

A silence had fallen over the summit, the only noises were of the winds howling among the jagged peaks. It indeed sounded like a woman crying, screeching their despair.

The frozen silence was broken when a fluff of blue fur leapt out of Tear's item bag, saying in a high pitched, squeaky voice, "They're alive! I sensed them in the Sephiroth before the avalanche!"

"And you can tell that?" Asch looked to Mieu. Natalia could tell by the look in his eyes it was an effort to not look hostile at the little cheagle. She had to repress a smile; it seemed that Asch and Luke were more alike than they were willing to admit, even for an original and his replica.

Jade sighed, adjusting his glasses as he was in the habit of. "And you call yourself a fonist. Guy, if you would?"

"Do I have to?" The Sigmund swordsman protested. He was met with blank stares, including from Asch. He shrugged. "Oh, fine, if you wanna be that way--along with fonon frequencies, everything in Auldrant has its own unique fonon signature--the singular way someone's fonons are combined, and the way they use them. For example, Tear's more prone to using Seventh Fonons, and Anise First Fonons, and so forth--it's more or less sensing the person's presence, especially if you know the person well. You can also sense them more accurately if all your external fon slots are open to their fullest capacity."

"Are you sure they're in the Sephiroth?" Anise asked. She blinked. "Uhm, where is the Sephiroth, anyway?"

Mieu chirped, jumping from Tear's bag onto the ground, pointing with a small forepaw. "That way! Though it's probably buried under all this snow, mieu."

"Should we let that thing drag us around?" Asch asked, arms folded. "How can we be so sure it knows where the Sephiroth is?"

"The Sorcerer's Ring," Tear answered, standing by Mieu. "It was Yulia's capacity core, after all."

Asch didn't reply. Of course, the Sorcerer's Ring. Of course it would be powerful--hadn't Yulia's inventions withstood the test of time, over the course of two thousand years? So why should it be any different with the Sorcerer's Ring?

"Okay, fine, fluff ball. Lead the way!"

"Will do!" Came the squeaky reply as he scurried across the snow.

--

Ever since he had first come to Daath, ever since the sword had split, Lloyd's connection with Origin had been growing weaker and weaker, until they could no longer exchange words. But when Lloyd had found Vorpal in Roneal's vale, half the power had returned to him, and he and Origin could exchange small talk. But for that he needed close, if not direct, contact with Vorpal, and Luke had it right now.

As they navigated the passage ring, undoing the Yulian seals, Lloyd was deep in thought. Should he be here? He had told Luke he wanted to help him, to help people in need, but was he truly helping them, or hurting them? He couldn't help but feel if only he hadn't left the battlefield, he might have done something to help Jade and the others. Even if it was a natural disaster. The guilt ripped at his heart, threatening to tear it out clean.

But why should he feel guilt? It was an accident; there was no way he could have done anything even if he stayed behind. And--it wasn't like he wanted to be here. He had his own problems to deal with, so very many of them, in his own homeland, so far away ... there so many issues to be resolved. He trusted that his own companions had the strength to deal with them, but without the sword that made it all happen, without him, the person that used the sword, nothing short of all hell could break loose.

They hadn't yet located Ion, though it was almost certain he was still alive, for if the Daathic seal had been opened, he must be inside the passage, ergo well out of the avalanche's way. Even for Ion, though, their top priority rested with commanding the passage ring. In a matter of what seemed like seconds Lloyd found himself standing before it beside Luke.

"Is it ... my fault?" He asked, the knife of guilt twisting in his gut. Luke averted his gaze downward, brow knit. "N-no ... it was a natural disaster. The noise of the battle probably caused it." He heaved a sigh. "If anything--if you hadn't left, we wouldn't be able to command the ring."

But if they were dead, could Luke and Lloyd command the rings and lower the land alone? If Van were to get in their way again of commanding another ring, they would be outnumbered, for Cantabile was still alive, and Lloyd knew that Kratos wouldn't die so easily. Kratos Lloyd knew he could handle, and he and Luke both proved themselves capable against Cantabile. But Van ... Van was a different story entirely. Lloyd never so much as saw him, much less crossed swords with him, while Luke knew the full scope of his ability, and according to him, Van was a master of the Albert Style.

Lloyd didn't say anything more, instead putting his hands on the sides of the passage ring's pedestal. He felt Seventh Fonons draining from him as he strained to open the book-like control panel, every muscle in his body contracting, fon slots churning. The taxing effort was overwhelming, but all Lloyd had to do was breathe and he could endure it. At last it was opened; beads of hot sweat rolled down his brow. He looked to Luke, who knew his cue.

Luke was well aware of how Lloyd exhausted himself keeping the panel open, so he worked quickly to inscribe his commands on the passage ring. He connected the last Outer Sephiroth to the Absorption Gate, the writing on the ring specifying to lower the Sylvana Continent when the order was given from the Radiation Gate.

While Luke was commanding, upraised hands glowing gold, Lloyd was struggling to remain conscious. For some reason, it was much harder to keep this panel open than the one at Mt. Zaleho had been, and that was in a volcano. Maybe he was simply more susceptible to the cold--he remembered in Flanoir, where he had caught the flu and they had to stave off forming the pact with Celsius for a week while Raine, with help from Zelos and Regal, worked around the clock to cure him; it was a little embarrassing, considering Genis, who was wearing short sleeves and shorts, never got so much as a cold, never mind the full-blown flu! The memories made Lloyd smile. He remembered them quite clearly and vividly--he remembered--he remembered--

Lloyd abruptly released the pedestal, staggering on his feet for a few moments before he fell to the floor, unconscious. Luke hurriedly finished up working on the ring before the security system forced him out. When the golden glow faded from his hands, he rushed to Lloyd's side, brow knit with worry.

"Lloyd? Lloyd! Talk to me!" Luke pressed a hand to Lloyd's forehead; almost immediately he withdrew it. His eyes went wide at the fever. "Oh no ... did you overwork yourself operating the ring again?" Lloyd couldn't answer, as he was unconscious. Luke bit his lip. He slung one of Lloyd's arms over his shoulders, supporting his friend's torso with his other arm, lifting him up as he stood. He had to get out of the ring, and find help--the earth shuddered underneath him, and he fell.

"Ow ... what the hell?" Luke looked up. The vibrations shaking his very bones seemed to be emanating from the passage ring itself. The shaking put Luke very much ill at ease, and bile rose in his throat, heart racing, as so vividly his body remembered this shaking--this was exactly how the Akzeriuth passage ring shook. Did that mean ... this ring was in danger of falling, too!?

The diagram overhead flashed, new words in Ancient Ispanian appearing onscreen. Luke squinted at the words, puzzling them out. _ Flujo del Sefiroth ... inverso._

"Flow of the Sephiroth ... reversed--?" He blinked. "Reversed!" The Sephiroth--the flow of memory particles from the planet's core and out through its ten major fon slots--was what kept the Outer Lands above the Qliphoth! If the flow was reversed, that would stimulate the core's vibrations--and from the way the passage ring was shaking, the other rings might not be able to sustain the pressure the reversed Sephiroth forced on them. If the passage rings broke--the Outer Lands would fall. Holding onto Lloyd, unconscious and ill, Luke screamed at the top of his lungs,

"Damn you, Van! Everything--the God-Generals' final stand--it was a set-up! I never thought that--even you--!" His voice choked up, vision blurred with tears. Lloyd was limp, completely lifeless before him but for the extremely subtle rise and fall of his chest. His breathing. Ion was missing, the others were quite possibly dead--and Auldrant was only days, perhaps hours, from its destruction.

And it was all _his_ fault.

"D-dammit," Luke was openly sobbing now, salty tears streaming down his face--whatever he did, no matter how hard he tried--and he'd tried so damn hard--he was doomed to fail. And it wasn't just himself he'd be bringing down; this time all of Auldrant was falling with him, falling down into the dark abyss.

Footsteps echoed behind him.

"Hn. Light of the Sacred Flame, indeed. You're no more than a child."

Luke froze, looking over his shoulder. Limping toward the passage ring where Luke and Lloyd were was none other than Kratos the Ardent. Luke stood between Lloyd and Kratos, hand on the hilt of Vorpal. His eyes were still welling up, but he didn't care.

"You've come to kill me, is that right!" He spat, eyes dangerously narrow. "Well, you're too late! Because I activated this ring, I've condemned the whole damn world to die with me!"

Kratos staggered, fell to his knees, no more than a few feet from Luke. He stared past Luke, at Lloyd, lying on the floor, making an extreme effort to just breathe. There was a strange look in the God-General's eye.

"He ... deserves a better death than this."

Luke swung at Kratos; in a lightning quick fashion, Kratos dodged it, Flamberge drawn. The passage commander couldn't help but be amazed--even wounded, the Ardent was so fast! But Luke wouldn't allow any enemy near Lloyd; his friend had suffered enough at his hands as it was. The least he could do was protect him, as Lloyd had done for him.

"What death would that be, Kratos!" Luke shouted, charging again. "The death of a warrior? I won't let you lay a finger on him!"

Kratos parried Luke's strike--when Vorpal and Flamberge made contact, there was an electric purple light between the blades, and a recoil of energy that sent both Luke and Kratos flying across the passage ring platform. Luke had flown right into one of the ring's support columns, hurting his right arm. Kratos had used Flamberge to stop his skidding--a long scratch marked his path of flight. They stood, facing one another, equally shocked.

"What the hell ... was that?" Luke whispered, his fingers numb around Vorpal's hilt. It was similar to when a hyperresonance had occurred between him and Tear at the manor, but at the same time completely alien. But ... these swords were composed of Fourth and Fifth Fonons respectively, not the Seventh! What was going on?

Kratos slowly got to his feet, a hand on his head, as if he had a particularly bad headache. His mouth opened, words coming out slowly, as if he were trying to speak a foreign language.

"You ... have not the ... right ..."

"What are you babbling about?" Luke called to him from across the huge room. Kratos stared at Flamberge's blade, the vermillion sheen ominous.

"I ... don't know. Perhaps it was an adverse reaction caused by fonons of opposing types?"

Luke quirked a brow. Yes, that made sense. That was why the Seventh Fonon was so powerful--it was composed of all six fonons, and as they were fonons of opposing types, it was inherently unstable. If they had to continue fighting, Luke wished he had another sword on him, but his own short sword had been lost in the Vale of Roneal, where Lloyd had found Vorpal and given it to Luke. But as long as they stopped the blades from making contact ...

Luke made to rush forward, but Kratos sheathed his sword. The action made Luke stop dead in his tracks.

"I have no wish to fight," Kratos said. "And, deep down, nor do you."

"How would you know that!" Luke demanded, stepping forward. "You're a God-General, of course I want to fight!"

"My loyalty to Van is not undying," Kratos replied, and Luke's eyes went wide. "Besides, isn't there something else you'd rather be doing? Such as getting him help?"

Luke glared at Kratos. Yes, there were two things he'd rather be doing--getting Lloyd help and getting to the Absorption and Radiation Gates to stop the Outer Lands from falling. But Luke wouldn't let go of the fact Kratos was made a God-General. The other God-Generals did everything in their power to make sure Luke never drew breath again. So why did Kratos hold back?

"No! I don't trust you!" Luke shook his head. He lunged at Kratos, thrusting Vorpal at his enemy--and Kratos grabbed his wrist, throwing him over the shoulder. When Luke was flat on his back Kratos wrested Vorpal from him, blade point digging into the flesh of Luke's throat. Luke froze, hardly daring to draw breath.

"You really are a child." He dropped Vorpal on the floor, the blade landing by Luke with a clatter. Luke's eyes were downcast, a mortified flush on his face. Kratos began to limp out of the room, into the nearby corridor. "You wait here. I will bring Fon Master Ion."

Luke grabbed Vorpal, sheathing it. He called after Kratos, "Why?"

Kratos looked over his shoulder. "He is ... the leader of the Order of Lorelei, is he not?"

If Lloyd wasn't unconscious, Luke wouldn't have let Kratos leave. But what could he do? If he left Lloyd here ... augh, who was he to prioritize one life over another? But truly ... Kratos didn't seem like such a bad person, and Luke had a feeling the God-General would keep his word. There wasn't any need to kill Ion, was there. The fact that Kratos didn't kill Luke--when that had been Van's order--was proof enough to Luke that the man wouldn't do anything untoward to Ion.

Luke returned to Lloyd's side; he checked the brunette's fever. He frowned, there was no change. He took a cloth from his bag, wetting it with his water bottle. He placed it on Lloyd's forehead. Why did Lloyd suddenly collapse? It must have been something the ring did to him ... did it really cause so much energy depletion? But even so, that wouldn't explain the fever ... Luke knit his brow, biting his lip.

"Idiot ... if you didn't feel well, why didn't you say something?"

And with an abrupt pang, Luke was reminded of Tear.

--

Gold.

His field of vision was filled with blinding white-gold. He didn't seem to be standing on solid ground, more like he was floating in the air. His surroundings ... nothing but the white-gold space. It was wide, but so very alive with activity, innumerable particles swirling about, brimming with intense energy.

_So, you are the one. The one who has answered my plea for help._

He tried to turn around, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything he normally could save look, and perhaps speak in turn. He decided to try talking.

"D-did I?" He felt a flooding rush of relief. He could talk. "But I'm not the one who ... Origin did ..."

_Ah, the King of Spirits. Every transcendent being such as myself knows of He who is the Source of Heaven, Earth, and Everything in Between, the Ruler of All. Despite the power he holds over Time and Space, he cannot interfere directly with every bit of that time and space._

That was true. Despite being the most powerful of transcendent beings, Origin can't exert his power unless he was in that time, space, or whatever. That was the reason Origin had the Eternal Sword, wasn't it? Professor Sage said before that the Eternal Sword acted as both a receptor and converter for Origin's power, but what the power was used for depended on the user ...

"But the sword split." He said, thought he wasn't sure how, since his body wasn't apparent at the moment. "So how can I help you? How should I help you? Who are you, and what is it you want?"

_I am the aggregate sentience of the Seventh Fonon, the Fonon of Sound, the power to destroy, and the power to heal. I am the Planet Auldrant's memory, and the Score itself. I am each and every replica in existence, I am each of Yulia's seven hymns, and I am her Grand Fonic Hymn. I am Asch and Luke. Mankind refers to me as Lorelei._

"Lorelei ..." He echoed, the name carrying heavy weight. "But, I still don't understand. What's going on in this world, how I'm to help you ..."

_I ... am trapped here. I desire but one thing--to be free, and become the seventh layer of the fon belt, to join with my fellow transcendent beings who watch over Auldrant. Two thousand years I have bided here, but with Asch, Luke, and especially now you, my freedom is possible. At the world's poles, the Absorption and Radiation Gates are the strongest of the Sephiroth. There, I will send Asch and Luke the key to free me. If I am free, One Who Would Seize Glory cannot destroy me._

"Destroy? Why would anyone want to destroy you?"

_There are ... those who are ill content with the future Yulia has foreseen. They believe that by destroying me--the planet's memory--the Score would not come true, and the world will not be eventually destroyed. But it is not only that. If I am destroyed, Asch and Luke, who are fragments of my soul, will also be destroyed. And One Who Would Seize Glory desires the destruction of Auldrant; that too cannot be ignored._

_It is my desire, as the one who called you, Origin's scion, here, for you to help the fragments of my soul, Asch and Luke--! Without shadow there can be no light, and so I know you are the only one who can preserve their existence as it is now ... I have seen it, you are the kind of person who has the will, and who has the power, to save them from themselves--!_

--

Kratos had not been lying. He returned, and flanking him were two Oracle Knights, and Ion walked beside him. When Ion saw Luke, his face brightened, and he rushed to him, a wide smile on his face.

"Luke! I knew it! You're alive!" He flung his arms around Luke's shoulders in a surprisingly strong hug. Luke gave a weak grin in return; if he were not already sitting he would have fallen from sheer disbelief. Even if in his head he thought Ion was alive and would be brought back, his heart had not conceded quite so easily.

"But--the seal--you're all right now?"

"Yes!" Ion nodded, breaking the hug. He looked behind him, to Kratos and the two Oracle Knights. "They helped me. The knights got me away from the avalanche, and Kratos healed me, that's how I recovered so quickly."

"Then, Kratos," Luke began, fists clenched, "you really aren't such a bad person ..."

Kratos quirked a brow. "Are any of the other God-Generals bad people? They merely follow their ideals and strive to realize them."

"Their ideals are the deaths of everyone on this land!" Luke retorted. "How can that be realized by good people?"

"All people begin as good. It is despair that changes them." Kratos said slowly.

Luke opened his mouth, but no sound came out. It was undeniable. After Akzeriuth fell, Luke had despaired, and his resolve to change had sprung from that. Van's vision to destroy the Score had come from his despair of Hod being destroyed. Despair of being ripped from his homeland and his place stolen by a replica ... had changed Asch into a cold and bitter person. Despair from having his family killed had driven Guy to aspire revenge ... Despair of being away from Ion had changed Arietta ... Despair of having to kill her own brother had changed Tear ...

"And I ..." Kratos continued, "had a friend once, who called me teacher. But ... I was ... unable to save him from his own despair ... for the life of me I cannot remember anything beyond that ..." He shook his head, trying to regain his composure.

Luke remained silent, not knowing what to say. Kratos was ... a victim, too. He had amnesia, he was lost in Mt. Zaleho, only Yulia knew how he'd gotten there, and he was a pawn of Van's. Perhaps now Kratos had realized that, and he was willing to break away, hence his loyalty to Van was "not undying." But in the end Luke didn't have to say anything.

Footfalls echoed throughout the passage, voices--hauntingly familiar--calling out Luke's name. Shadows splayed on the walls, the huge fonstone in the center of the ring throwing light down the corridor from which the footsteps were coming from. When the people began filling into the passage ring, Luke's eyes welled up, throat constricting.

"Luke! Hey, it's Luke! And Ion!" Guy was at the head of the procession, cerulean eyes bright and all smiles as he waved to those behind him. One by one they came into Luke's field of vision ... Jade, Anise, Natalia, Asch ... and Tear. They were ... everyone was ... alive ... well, and alive ...

He couldn't help it. He was so overcome, so certain they had been dead, and yet ... they had defied it. They were alive, each and every one of them, as if there had been no avalanche. His face fell into his hands, and he could do nothing more than cry his relief. He'd always hated himself for crying before, but ... no one looked down on a person crying when he was happy, right?

"I-idiots!" He cried, stuttering in his gasping sobs. "D-did you ha-have any idea how worried I was? I-I thought you were all d-dead!"

Guy knelt so that he was at Luke's eye level. Luke sniffled, looking up to meet his friend's eyes. Guy chuckled, ruffling Luke's hair as he often did, back at the manor, back at home.

"Funny, we could say the same thing about you, Luke."

Pride, whatever was left of it, be damned. Luke pulled Guy into a hug, burying his face into Guy's shoulder. By that alone, Guy had admitted that it was really was okay for Luke to be here ... Luke had thought he had always been a burden and nothing more, but he needed them, and they all needed him to some degree.

"It's okay, Luke." Guy said, patting Luke's shoulders. "You did good. It's okay now."

"Yeesh, dreck, get a hold of yourself," Asch spat, standing by the doorway, as far away from his replica as possible. "You're so embarrassing." Beside Asch, Natalia gave him a nudge.

"Why? Because he reminds you of yourself?"

"Wh-what?" Asch protested. "I-I'm nothing like that!"

Natalia tilted her head to one side. "Or is it because you're jealous of him? I mean, he's so honest about his feelings ..."

To that Asch had no answer. If it were anyone but Natalia saying that, Asch would have physically made them shut up. But this was Natalia ... and she knew the weight of such words, and wouldn't use them lightly. And Natalia was wise. Could there be some truth to what she said? Asch observed his replica from afar. He hated his replica with a zeal and passion unmatched. His replica had stolen everything from him, his replica had murdered an entire city ... but his replica was also a victim of Van's deception, was also made a pawn. Asch refused to be that pawn, and so did his replica ...

Maybe ... maybe his replica was something of a person, after all ...

"I'm terribly sorry to disrupt this touching reunion," Jade began, gathering everyone's attention, not sounding in the least bit regretful to be interrupting, "but there is other business to attend to." He looked to Kratos and the knights flanking him. "That, for one, and the commanding of the passage ring."

Instantly every able person moved and formed a semicircle blocking Kratos and his Oracle Knights from Luke, Ion, and the unconscious Lloyd. Kratos did nothing, merely stared unblinking at those blocking his path. He inclined his head slightly.

"I commend your resolution, but I have no wish to fight you here."

"He's right," Ion said, heads turning to meet his viridian eyes. "He helped me after I'd exhausted myself opening the Daathic seal."

"A-and he could have killed me an hour ago!" Luke added, standing to the God-General's defense, something he didn't think himself capable of doing not very long ago. "But he chose not to!"

There was silence, as Jade and Kratos locked eyes, staring one another down. Both were men experienced on the battlefield, ready to kill on command, and would not think twice of killing one another should the hour come.

But not this day.

"If it pleases you, Necromancer," Kratos addressed Jade, for if he fought even everyone else together he would emerge victorious, but the Colonel was another story entirely. "I and my men would take our leave."

Jade pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose when they slipped, a wry smile going well with his blood-crimson eyes. "And if we kill you now, we won't need to worry about you in future conflicts with Van."

Kratos returned the smile, arms folded across his chest. "You know better than that. You have other things to worry about. The passage ring, for one, and," he pointed to the limp body next to Luke that was Lloyd, "he needs help immediately. I trust you to understand what is more important."

"Well played," Jade replied, hands leisurely in his pockets as they were always. "But if you choose to continue to fight for Van, know that I will kill you."

"I have never feared death." Kratos said as he began on his way. The two Oracle Knights looked at Ion before they followed in the God-General's wake. When they had gone, the tension of enemy presence had left, and a new kind of tension remained. Tension that Luke had feared, but eased somewhat.

Jade approached Lloyd, feeling the fever. "Well, well. What have we here?"

"W-we already commanded the ring," Luke supplied, brow knit as he looked at Lloyd. "And he just up and collapsed." His eyes flickered upward when Tear came forward, kneeling beside him. She rummaged in her item bag, withdrawing a plastic bottle of pills. She opened the lid, took two capsules out, and with Jade's assistance had Lloyd take them.

"Miasma toxicosis," Tear said before Luke could ask. "when one opens the control panel, a large volume of Seventh Fonons contaminated with miasma flows into the operator. These contaminated fonons clog our systems, and the miasma fused with them weakens our vital organs."

"Wait, 'our'?" Luke repeated, alarmed. "That means, you, too--"

"Am contaminated, yes," She replied. "But we have to command the rings. The miasma will remain with us for the rest of our lives, but as long as we aren't exposed to more miasma, we'll live."

Luke worked his jaw, tongue pasted to the roof of his mouth. For the rest of their lives. For the rest of their lives. Suddenly the weight of the world fell on his shoulders, his back threatening to break under all the pressure. This was his reward for trying to make other people carry the burden of his sins--of his mistakes--for him. They suffered, while Luke walked away with hardly a scratch. It seemed Yulia's predestiny of Luke destroying himself would come true no matter what he did.

He shook his head--this was no time to be feeling sorry for himself! He hated to admit it, but both Lloyd and Tear were necessary for lowering the Outer Lands! If they hadn't helped to operate the rings, the Outer Lands would be doomed to fall! He stopped, dead in his tracks. Doomed to fall.

"We need to get back to town for Lloyd and Ion," Luke said, hosting up his brunette counterpart, "but there's also something I need to tell you guys about the passage rings.


	27. The Night Before, Part I

A/N: Began watching omegaevolution's recording of his/her playthrough of Vesperia, which I can't play due to lack of a 360 (damn you, bloodsucking Microsoft!). Which means I might begin writing Vesperia fics soon. I say Flynn's either the lovechild of Guy and Milhaust, or Guy and Natalia. Or someone in Terca Lumireis borrowed fomicry.

--

Lloyd awoke with the worst headache he'd ever had in his entire life. He sat up in the bed, cringing at the pounding in his head, as if someone had tried to bash his skull in with a very large pow hammer. Repeatedly. Damn, he'd never had such a bad headache, not even the time when Zelos had talked him into drinking three bottles of potion in one night. Sure, in Iselia, potion was taken with dinner every so often, but he'd never drunk so much in one go--damn. Last time he'd go vacationing in Altamira with Zelos, legendary party man.

Lloyd looked around the room, feeling lightheaded, his blood coursing through his veins slowly and with the consistency of maple syrup. Ugh. He was in a cushy hotel room, spacious, curtains and bedcovers a soft red velvet. In a bed on the opposite side of the room lay Ion, sound asleep. Out the window Lloyd could see the snowy city--what was the name? Keterburg. He glanced to his bedside table. There was a bottle of pills, and a handwritten note. He picked up the note, brow furrowed as his head continued to pound.

_'This medicine will help with the fever and pain. Take one or two every four to six hours, as needed. Get well soon!--Luke'_

Lloyd unscrewed the medicine bottle cap, plucked out two caplets. Fever? Pain? He was sick? The last thing he remembered was commanding the ring, and then--a complete blank. He frowned. He could ask about it later, if the medicine would indeed get rid of this infernal headache! He fished out his water bottle, popped the caplets, took a drink and swallowed. They went down more easily than he initially expected; he wasn't used to swallowing things whole.

Gradually, the pain and the illness he felt ceased to be. The headache, most painful of all, was gone as well. Now that he was feeling better, be it far from him to just stay in bed. As he pulled on his gloves and boots, his eyes lingered on Ion, slumbering peacefully, blissfully unaware. He seemed fine now; he probably needed the rest after all the excitement on Mt. Roneal. Lloyd shuddered. He never wanted a repeat of the Roneal experience. He picked up the medicine bottle, looking at the label:

Dr. Shu's office in Belkend, Kimlasca, medication prescribed for miasma toxicosis to Tear Grants. Lloyd's jaw dropped. Miasma toxicosis? Moreover, Tear was sick, too, they had the same condition? He pocketed the bottle, shrugging. Whatever that was. He could just ask Tear when he saw her. In the meantime, he had some exploring to do, namely a red-haired noble to find.

--

"So, Van had a hidden code. When all Sephiroth were connected to the Absorption Gate and activated, it reversed the flow of the Sephiroth, unchanged for two thousand years. It puts strain on the passage rings and stimulates the core's vibrations, the mantle will liquefy again and everything will fall except the Absorption Gate. Well played."

Luke kicked clumps of snow and gravel, seated on a bench, eyes downcast. He mutely nodded at Jade, who stood by a statue of Karl III, one of Malkuth's emperors, founder of Keterburg. Jade shrugged, his hands in his pockets like always.

"It's almost as if he waited for this--he may well have been."

"We planned to connect all the Sephiroth to the Absorption Gate and then lower the land with the Radiation Gate." Luke said, his voice strangely muted. "Will ... there be enough time?"

Jade looked at him. "Probably not." Luke's shoulders slumped. "Which is why," the Colonel continued, "we'll be needing Asch's help." Luke looked at the older fonist, disbelieving. "What?"

"We'll split into two groups. One will command the Absorption Gate, the other the Radiation Gate. Will that be sufficient?"

Almost against his will, Luke's face brightened to match the glowing snow. He nodded. "Y-yeah. But what about Asch? He seemed to be pretty clear about wanting to go on his own again."

If Jade had a cup of tea handy, he would have nonchalantly sipped from it. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," he said, a devilish grin on his face. "We do have Natalia, after all."

Luke sighed, relieved. So it could still work. They could still lower the land safely. Auldrant still had a chance at life. His small smile vanished at Jade's next words.

"But I must say I'm rather surprised at you. Why would you go to such lengths to purposely avoid meeting us all this time?"

Luke stared at his feet. Of course they would know. Of course they would ask, especially Jade of all people. He narrowed his eyes; why should he lay out his heart, stark naked for all to see? Why should he spill his deepest, darkest secrets when Jade wasn't willing to say so much as what he thought of dinner? Why should--why should--

"I thought you didn't trust me." Luke spat bitterly. Jade probably never trusted him at all, from the beginning when he and Tear were apprehended in the Cheagle Woods. Hmph, trespassing into Malkuth's borders indeed! "It's not that you didn't just not trust me, either, apparently you didn't need me--" Luke couldn't stop himself, his fingers gripping the cold wood of the bench tightly, "because you replaced me with Asch."

Here Jade frowned, something that made Luke pause.

"Well, over the time we've traveled together, I've come to think you're ... not so bad. And do forgive me if I thought preventing the fall of the Outer Lands of greater priority than our reunion."

That last remark was swift, sharp, a stab to the heart. Luke's breathing rattled, as if he really had been stabbed. Push Jade, he pushed right back, and harder. Though he really didn't understand why Jade never was judged for anything--he, the father of fomicry, of this whole mess in the first place! If it wasn't for fomicry, Hod would never have been destroyed! If it wasn't for fomicry, Van wouldn't have a way to destroy the world like he'd been doing! If it wasn't for fomicry ... if it wasn't for Luke's being created ...

Jade sighed. "Really, Luke, I thought you'd gotten over that manic depression of yours. If it makes you feel any better, it was quite the effort to have Asch agree to command rings for us. He didn't want to be a replacement for his replica, who'd taken his own place years ago."

That sounded like Asch, Luke mentally conceded. He'd quit being Luke, he was Asch the Bloody of the God-Generals, of Daath. Even if they were replica and original, they weren't interchangeable. But still ... Luke recalled quite vividly how hurt he had been, how fitting a punishment ... the original replacing the replica, reclaiming what he lost seven years ago--it was all Luke ever wanted. Ever since Akzeriuth's fall, ever since he discovered his being a replica, he was sure he could never return to the Fabre manor, the place he had called home. He couldn't ever go back. He was just a replica to them. He wasn't their son.

"Would you mind telling me exactly what has transpired ever since you were captured?" Jade broke Luke's train of thought. "If there's a reason you're so hurt by the fact Asch commanded passage rings for us, it must lie there."

Inwardly Luke wondered why Jade would care, but it was Jade, he must have his own reasons. The only one he could think of was that if Luke continued to feel hurt by this, he might prove himself a liability in working with the old team again. Despite the bad taste in left in Luke's mouth to think that, it certainly was true. If he kept feeling insecure, he would end up getting himself seriously hurt or killed in the middle of battle--but he couldn't help it--he gave in, sighing.

"Fine. They took me to Daath; I didn't wake up until they already locked me up under the cathedral. The God-Generals kept me there for two reasons--to stop you guys commanding the rings, and to squeeze information about your plans to stop the core's vibration from me. The God-General who looked after me ... was Sync."

Bile rose in his throat. He thought he'd forgotten the weeks he spent in that dirty, damp cell, chained to the wall, helpless to even feed himself ... he had locked those memories away, but they were no idle songbird. They were an ugly monster, rattling its cage, bending the bars, waiting for the time to burst out and revel in its freedom. The memories ... the nightmares ... the pain, the fear ... it was all coming back to him in a rush. Sync's cruel laugh as he beat him into the ground, asking repeatedly, what were his friends planning to do now? How would they get along without their passage commander? Would they care if Luke died, would they even get to know? It took Luke a few moments to realize his hands were shaking, his lower lip was quivering, and his eyes were beginning to well up.

"You don't have to tell me every single detail, if you don't want to," Jade said softly. "Just that Sync was assigned to keep you is enough to tell me what you may have experienced in that dungeon."

Luke took in deep breaths, trying to forget about Sync. He was not on Padamiya, or anywhere near it. Sync was dead. Sync was dead. He stopped, noticing he had been whispering those words: Sync was dead.

"I-" his voice choked, "I never did tell him what he wanted to know. I couldn't escape, either, because I had no weapons or a fonic arte strong enough--and there weren't any Seventh Fonons, either. I was kept in that cell for a few weeks; I can't remember exactly how many. But--Dist came into the dungeon one day. He wanted to use me in an experiment involving memory particles and perfect isofons."

"Dist?" Jade asked, his breath a sharp intake of air. Luke started as the Colonel said, "What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?" Though to be fair, it was a bit late to be asking that ...

"He ..." Luke began, then stopped. His memory of what happened in the lab was still quite fuzzy. He couldn't remember much--there was that fon machine that resembled the one at Coral Castle, there was the memory particle reservoir, and then--not a complete blank, but it was hard to recall. "He made me lay on a fon machine like the one at Coral Castle, then there was a rush of memory particles ... then a golden-white haze, and voices. I don't remember much else."

"A golden haze," Jade echoed, "and voices. Sounds to me as if you were hyperresonating."

"But there weren't any Seventh Fonons," Luke countered. "Dist said his machines stopped them from entering that wing."

Jade shrugged. "Well, you were in Daath, practically on top of a planetary fon slot, where the Seventh Fonons come from."

"... Yeah. Anyway, when I woke up, I wasn't in the dungeon or the lab anymore. I was in the traveler's quarters. Cantabile tried to take me somewhere, but ..."

"You escaped." Jade finished, and Luke nodded to show he had guessed rightly. But there was a small frown on Jade's lips. "Even not in the dungeon, you shouldn't have been strong enough to escape on your own."

Luke gave him a flat look. "Gee, thanks, old faithful. You're right. I never could've gotten away on my own. I didn't break myself out; Lloyd did."

Jade's eyebrows shot straight up, almost hidden under his golden brunette hair. The frown flattened, the corners upturned in a semblance of a smile. "Really?" He asked, the tone of his voice falsely sweet, like honeyed poison.

Luke didn't notice, just Jade being his usual Jadeful self. "Yeah. He came to Daath to visit the cathedral, heard Oracle Knights talking about me, and he said he couldn't abandon someone in need. Something called a Dwarven Vow."

"Don't you find it strange," Jade said abruptly, "that he happened to rescue you, Luke? Light of the Sacred Flame, Scion of Lorelei's power, key to stopping Van and preserving the Outer Lands?"

Luke stared at the ground, thinking. He did find it strange. But at the same time, he wanted to believe Lloyd's story. Lloyd seemed like a good person, he had saved Luke from that merciless hellhole. He had saved Luke's life more times than the noble could count. He had a real desire to help the people of Auldrant ... Luke wanted to believe that there was no way Lloyd could have ulterior motives. Those days journeying together, riding the Albiore III with Ginji, those conversations, friendly banter, their arguments--they had all been real, hadn't they? All those times they were in battle together, they had watched one another's backs, those times they sparred, when Luke won, when he lost--that wasn't a dream to fade away. Of that he was sure. Lloyd was Luke's friend.

"If you're so sure everyone's an enemy," Luke said, colder than he meant to, "how do you sleep at night?"

"Not only that," Jade continued, "but Lloyd had left the rest of us to die in that avalanche on Mt. Roneal. He didn't understand exactly what was at stake in this fight."

"He left you to help me." Luke said quietly. "He left to command the ring. You said so yourself, that was of higher priority."

"And look where it got us." Jade countered. "Auldrant only days away from its doom."

There was cold silence. This was what their long months of separation had gotten them--thicker tension than before, and argument. Luke felt bad for instigating an argument with Jade, the smartest and most sensible of the group; the man was only looking out for his teammates. But to bad-mouth Lloyd ... Jade had not spent those months with Lloyd, didn't get to know Lloyd very well at all.

"What do you really know about Lloyd?" Jade demanded. "Who he is, where he's from, why he chose to help you ... anything?"

"He has a bone to pick with Kratos the Ardent." Luke supplied. "Kratos has his father's sword. He must've come with me because Kratos is a God-General, who we fight."

"Yes, he did say something along those lines," Jade ceded, "but did he explicitly tell you that right from the get-go? I'm sure I don't need to remind you that your trust in someone has been misplaced before."

"No!" Luke said harshly, brow knit together, lips turned in a jagged frown. "He didn't say so. So what? How can you doubt someone that saved your life more times than you can count?"

Jade stopped, those crimson eyes examining Luke with a strange glint, a light that Luke didn't like at all. "Why are you so quick to defend him?" he asked so quietly Luke almost didn't hear him. "You've known him for less than half a year, yet you hold him as dearly as you hold Guy, a childhood friend."

"W-well," Luke stuttered, he didn't like where this was going. Was it so wrong to have made a friend outside of their circle of six? Was it so wrong to not want to be doomed to obscurity? What Jade said next twisted the knife in his gut.

"Does Lloyd know you're Asch's replica?"

The silence was heavy and oppressive. By that alone Luke admitted his answer.

_No._

"Does Lloyd know the cause of Akzeriuth's collapse?"

Luke's throat and chest tightened, the grip on the bench so strong his knuckles were bleached white. Against his will, tears began to form and fall. It was becoming hard to breathe, hard to keep silent.

_No._

"I see," Jade said, sounding as if he were perversely enjoying himself. "A fresh start. A person who has accepted you unconditionally is far easier to build and maintain a relationship with than people whose bonds were shattered."

Luke bowed his head, refusing to look at Jade. The bastard had it all right, down to the very last detail. Before, he told himself that he didn't care if Lloyd had known those things, that if the twin blader chose to leave, that was fine. But now, the prospect of Lloyd walking out on him, just as the others had on the deck of the Tartarus, terrified him to the core.

"Tell me," Jade said, breaking his train of thought, "tell me everything that has happened since you escaped Daath."

--

Apparently Keterburg was a resort town. Lloyd found that strange. It was so snowy, cold, and remote up here; why would this city be a resort? But it was, from the museums, the auction houses, to the bright, gaudy neon sign that pointed to the casino. That made Lloyd smirk. He remembered when Zelos had dragged them all into the casino at Altamira; it was quite boring because many of their number was underage and couldn't drink, couldn't play any of the games ... their main purpose was to drag Zelos back to the hotel one he played himself into the ground. Heh, Altamira. That place was warmth, sand, and sunshine. That was a more likely place for a resort than a frigid city like this.

As Lloyd wandered the frosty cobblestone streets, seeing people bundled up in different colored coats, children playing in the snow, he couldn't help but feel nostalgic. It wasn't Flanoir, but being here reminded him of the time he and his own companions stayed there the night before their own final battle. That was where he and Colette had talked on the balcony overlooking the city. That was where his fears were relieved, beliefs strengthened. That was where she had given him a good luck charm, a Flanoir snow bunny. He remembered her smile, the warmth of her hand ... he stopped in the middle of the cobblestone street, realizing his expression was bitter, perhaps even angry.

Why did it have to be him all the time? Why did he have to be whisked away so far from his homeland? Why did he have to be separated from all he held dear? He could never understand why Luke had wanted to be separate from his own friends, to Lloyd his companions were like the air he breathed, the water he drank. He couldn't imagine being separated from them forever. He looked up at the cloudless sky, a dark velvet tapestry studded with countless diamonds for stars. With a frown, he noted the constellations were different. Quite different. Even when they had been separated, Sylvarant and Tethe'alla still shared the same constellations, the same stars, the same sky ... why couldn't he go home already?

At that thought, he stopped. Wasn't this ... the same thing Sheena had dealt with? Saving some strange land far from home ... that was exactly what she had done, and she had been necessary to bring peace to both their homelands. Lloyd might not be necessary, but now that he was here, he might as well do what he can to help. They were his ideals, his beliefs ... his Dwarven Vows. If he gave up now, Dirk would be so ashamed.

In either case, Lloyd couldn't go home unless he reunited Flamberge and Vorpal. To get Flamberge, he had to fight the God-Generals--Kratos--and that meant helping Luke to fight them and Van. But to help Luke--he had to work with the companions. Lloyd shrugged, starting down the street again. It couldn't hurt to get to know them. And ... after the way he ditched them on Mt. Roneal, he owed them an explanation.


	28. The Night Before, Part II

A/N: Aww, thanks for your reviews, everyone! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and make me want to write more! Thanks for your uplifting encouragement!

--

He found her sitting on a bench just outside of the snow enveloped park where igloos stood and bundled up children built snowmen and threw snowballs. She was sitting by herself, perhaps thinking. He didn't blame her. After everything that's happened, no doubt everyone wanted a chance to mull things over by themselves for a while. But he had something he wanted to ask her. She was still wearing her Oracle uniform, but with a coat to fend off the cold, thought it wasn't as cold down here as it was on Mt. Roneal.

"Hey." Lloyd said, approaching her. Tear looked up him.

"Oh, hello."

"Do you mind if I sit?"

Tear shook her head, so Lloyd sat on the bench beside her. He withdrew the bottle of medicine from his pocket, held it out to her. She gently pushed the bottle away.

"Keep it. I have at least two more bottles; you need it, anyway."

Lloyd felt a bit guilty--the medicine had been prescribed for her, not him--but at her behest he put the bottle away. "So, what is this 'miasma toxicosis' ?"

"The planet's core, where the sentience of the Seventh Fonon, Lorelei, resides, is contaminated with miasma, a poison. Every time you or I help command a passage ring, those poisoned fonons come up the Sephiroth and enters our bodies. The fonons can't properly exit our system because of the miasma, and this weakens our vital systems."

Lloyd looked at her, trying to process everything she said. So, it was basically like any other poison, except it was bonded with the Seventh Fonons they took in from the passage rings. And the fonons were stuck in their systems, weakening their organs from the overload. That explained the terrible headache he had when he woke up.

"So, this toxicosis--"

"Incurable." Lloyd's eyes went wide, stunned. Tear probably didn't mean for it to sound unkind, but ... "The medicine helps the pain, but the miasma will stay with us for the rest of our lives. As long as we aren't exposed to any more miasma, we'll live."

Lloyd furrowed his brow, stared at his feet. It wasn't that much of a shock, at least not as much as he'd expected it to be. It explained the pain he had when he woke up, and why he'd passed out in the Roneal passage ring. But it felt so ... surreal. Like he wasn't really the one who was sick, just someone else looking in the window. Just like the time when Colette had Angel Toxicosis. Supposedly that illness had been fatal, but she lived, didn't she? Then Lloyd will have to live, too! No way he was going to take this lying down!

"Did Luke know?" He knew Luke well enough to know that his red headed counterpart would never knowingly put him in danger--or Tear--like this. It wasn't just Lloyd helping the passage ring commander. Tear shook her head.

"No. When we found out about the toxicosis, Luke was ... Daath. He knows now."

Ah. If Lloyd had passed out in the Roneal Sephiroth, and the others had rejoined at that time, then Luke would have to know. He just hoped Luke wouldn't blame himself for his and Tear's illnesses. The noble had a tendency to do that.

"He's not ... blaming himself, is he?"

"If he is, we'll know, and we'll beat some sense into him."

That made Lloyd smile. Luke was wrong. These people--they obviously cared about Luke a great deal, or else they'd have let him drown in despair. True, he'd only really talked to Tear, and he'd butted heads with Jade, but he was sure they all genuinely cared about Luke, at least to some extent. And it wasn't because Luke was their passage commander, either.

Luke was ... their dear friend. And now Lloyd's, too.

"He is such an idiot!"

"Tell me about it." Tear said with a smile.

--

"If I had my way, that wretch would be a dead man!" Asch said scathingly, sitting on the park bench beside Natalia. She had a small frown.

"You mean Van? Do you really mean that from the bottom of your heart, the master who you've looked up to?" Despite himself, Asch cracked a smile.

"Can't fool you, huh?" Even after so many years apart, she still knew him like the back of her hand. When he sat here beside her like this, those years of torment after that bastard replicated and replaced him, all the suffering he'd endured--hardly seemed to matter in the light of her smile. Sitting beside her, the possibility of returning to Baticul seemed so real.

For the first time in seven long years, he didn't feel like Asch the God-General. He felt like ... his old self. Himself. Luke fon Fabre, even if his replica bore that name now. He was the son of Duke Fabre, secondary heir to the throne, engaged to Natalia. Maybe, after all this was over, he could ... maybe he could ...

"Someday," he said abruptly, "Let's change this country. Change it so no one has to be poor. Change it so war never happens. Let's work to change this country for the rest of our lives ... together."

Her hand found his. Jade eyes locked with the emerald, conveying a sense of deep understanding that remained undiluted for seven years. If only there wasn't that one damnable thing hindering him, the side-effect of fomicry's producing perfect isofons, what had Dist called it? The Big Bang Theory ... he squeezed her hand.

"Is it ... really all right for me to go back?" He whispered. "Is it ... okay to return to my homeland?"

"Yes, of course it is." She answered softly. "And if even one person, yourself included, refuses to allow your return, I will fight tooth and nail to bring you back. After all, we can't change Kimlasca if you don't return."

"I didn't say that because you were a princess." He said mutely.

"I know," She said. "I know."

A smile spread across her face, and he thought, if nothing else, she was the only reason he needed to return to Kimlasca.

--

He didn't mean to get lost. He'd never been to Keterburg before, but then again he'd never been to many of the world's great cities besides Daath, so he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd been looking for Luke, but one of his companions found him first.

"Hey!" Anise beckoned him, and he obeyed. "Lloyd, right? How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Like crawling under a rock before I took the medicine."

"That's good." Anise said. "We need you and Tear in good shape to take on the Absorption and Radiation Gates."

Lloyd's shoulders sloped down, hanging his head. "Aw, is that all I'm good for?"

But Anise wasn't fooled. "Quit moping! All of the Outer Lands could fall in a matter of days! We need to set our priorities here."

"I know, I know," Lloyd smiled sheepishly. "Sheesh, you don't let up. You remind me of my friend Genis. In fact, I think you're his age."

"Genis, huh? Where does he live? Is he rich?"

Lloyd shrugged. "Unless he made a ton of money without telling me, no. He lives in the village my dad and I live close to; we live in the nearby woods."

He thought he saw disappointment in Anise's honey gold eyes, until their usual light of mirth replaced it. He suppressed a shudder; the Fon Master Guardian could be quite scary when she felt like it. Maybe all women had a side like that? Professor Sage certainly did ...

"So where do you live?" Anise continued. "Ion spoke well of you, but I don't really know who you are." She put her hands on her hips, standing up tall. "And be honest! I could treat you like dirt right now after the way you ditched everyone in the avalanche, but I decided to see what kind of person you are for myself."

Yep, Lloyd decided every single woman had a very scary beast inside her that they were willing to let loose at any given opportunity. Maybe Guy had the right idea ... He coughed to stall for time more than anything else--he didn't know geography very well, or the names of any villages here or whatnot. He was suddenly scared that his secret would be discovered, by a Fon Master Guardian, no less! If Anise could figure him out, then he'd better stay clear of Jade.

"Ah, you're make me guess?" Anise asked slyly. Lloyd began to say, no, he just wanted a little more time, but she went on. "Okay, you got me! Let's see ... the woods, huh? Can't be Padamiya; Ion said you'd only been there a few times. You look Kimlascan, but the only undeveloped lands it has is Inista Marsh and the Radessia lands, no woods there. So, what, one of the Rugnica forests? Cheagle Woods, maybe? The only village near there is Engeve."

"Uhm ... Yeah!" Lloyd answered. "Er, do you profile everyone you meet like that?"

She gave him a flat look. "When you're guardian of a world leader, you learn a few things. Ion's just as, if not more important than a king in his own right!"

"I'm sure," Lloyd replied, trying to get his nerves under control. Inwardly, he wondered how long he could keep this up. Luckily no one had caught on so far, but if this dragged on ... he could fool everyone, everyone except Jade. Jade would know, if Lloyd gave him reason to doubt him. Leaving everyone in the middle of an avalanche certainly was reason to doubt him ...

He tried to shrug it off. Sometime it was inevitable that he'd have to tell them his secret. He just hoped to Origin that when that time came, he wouldn't be left alone.

--

"Isn't this place a bit loud to think?" Luke asked when he found Guy standing by himself in the casino next to the hotel. The way Guy had been standing, the look on his face, Luke knew the swordsman had been lost in thought. But ... the casino was so loud, in more ways than one. People playing cards, the slot machines, at the bar, talking, exclaiming their wins and losses. Poker chips clattering on the tables, Gald exchanged for them, the clinking of glasses as liquor was poured into them ... Luke certainly wouldn't be able to think like this.

Guy smiled. "Actually, I find it easier to think in places like these. You learn to tune out the extra noise."

Luke made a face. He doubted he'd ever be able to master the art of thinking in a place this loud. There was just too much going on to ignore it. "So, what are you up to?"

Guy shrugged, drumming his fingers on the wooden banister on the walking ramp by the casino's entrance. "Thinking," He replied with a goofy grin, for that he was thinking had already been established when Luke walked in. Luke knew that, too, and adopted a miffed expression, arms folded across his chest.

"I know that," he said, "but about what?" After a moment's consideration, he added, "It's fine if you don't want to talk about it." But Guy shook his head, taking a hand off the banister.

"No, it's fine. I'm not plotting anything devious." The smile seemed somewhat forced. When he saw that his noble friend wasn't fooled, his shoulders slumped. "Well, I was thinking when me and Van were kids."

Luke nodded, unfolding his arms so his hands could rest on his hips. "That's right, you and Van were childhood friends. I ... can't really imagine him as a child."

Guy quirked a brow at Luke saying Van without the affectionate title of Master like he always did. Even after Akzeriuth, even after he'd been played like an instrument, the title of Master was always affixed to the name Van. He decided it was better not to ask why the title was dropped. His friend's captivity with the God-Generals probably hadn't been all sunshine and flowers.

"Don't be silly," he said instead of asking, 'Why aren't you calling him Master anymore?' "Everyone was a child once." He was met with a stifling silence, and with a jolt the swordsman realized his foot-in-the-mouth comment. He said something so thoughtless to Luke, a replica, born in the body of a ten year old. Guy quickly said, "Even you. Seven years old is still pretty young, you know."

A confused expression came to Luke's face. "I don't remember being that young." He said it slowly, as if Guy had known something he didn't. To his surprise, Guy laughed.

"You're seven now. You have thirteen years before you're an adult. Enjoy your childhood." Though Guy thought he really shouldn't be saying that, what with everything the young replica had been through. Sure, enjoy your life, even with the nightmares of destroying Akzeriuth plague you every sleeping moment and your captivity with the God-Generals plague you every waking moment. Stupid Guy, stupid foot in the mouth comments! But instead of manic depression, he got a positive reply.

"I'll ... try." A small smile came to his face. "Thanks, Guy. I needed cheering up."

Guy stared at Luke, all mirth gone from him. Luke had looked pretty beaten up when he came into the casino. He had a feeling who had talked to the young replica outside.

"Jade chewed you out pretty good, huh?"

Luke sighed, nodding. He looked so tired. "Y-yeah. He thinks Lloyd can't be trusted. I mean, I know he left you guys in the avalanche, but he only did that to help command the ring."

Guy shrugged, considering. Despite how eerie Jade always portrayed himself, he always had the group's best interests at ... well, not heart, really. But he always made good decisions, and he was a good judge of character. And if he thought Lloyd couldn't be trusted ... he shook his head.

"Well, he doesn't seem like such a bad person, like you say. He did break you out of Daath and all. And Anise seems to like him."

That alone was enough to bring light to Luke's eyes, and the smile widened. "So ... you'll trust him, at least for now?"

Guy nodded his confirmation. "Yes, for now. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Luke."

For the first time since the eight of them returned from Mt. Roneal, Luke laughed.

"Thanks, Guy."

--

It was getting cold, and he was getting tired, so Jade thought he'd turn in for the night. Perhaps he'd grab a glass or two of some quality wine before he hit the hay. Nothing hard, of course, it wouldn't do to head for the final battle with a hangover, tempting though it sounded.

Jade was a responsible man, it seemed he was the most responsible of the group, what with the wishy washy, erratic way everyone else wanted to behave. First Tear had run off to Ortion Cavern to speak with Van (which hadn't gone well, Asch ended up getting hurt, which took both Tear and Natalia to heal), next Luke had run around Auldrant, putting himself in unnecessary danger, Ion had been switching between passage commanders, then Asch wanted to leave when he found out his replica had gotten free, then Luke brings this Lloyd person in their group, who ditched everyone else in the middle of an avalanche ... so far only Anise and Natalia had refrained from needless conduct. He hoped they would stay that way. As long as Ion was safe, Anise too was from this pattern of erratic-ness, but Natalia ... she had to be by Asch, so they could keep each other in line.

Well, so far, so good. It had been a good idea to rest up for the night in Keterburg. Luke had gone to speak with the others, and taking time to start picking up the pieces would be good for him. For him, and everyone else, as deeply as they were all attached to the young replica. Jade admitted there was a spot of sorts he had for Luke, but it was more like he was babysitting a troublesome child. And Luke indeed proved himself a problem child, just as, if not more, than Asch was. With a chuckle Jade remembered how he irritated Asch with his aloof personality and sarcasm--how easy it was to ruffle his feathers! It reminded him of how easy it was to bait Dist, much in the same way.

He walked into the hotel's lobby. The receptionist nodded a greeting, which the Colonel reciprocated. The bar was on one of the upper floors, with the dining room. He moved for the elevator, when a movement in the corner of his eye made him turn around. Coming into the hotel from outside, looking quite chilled, was Lloyd Irving, looking cold but content. Perhaps he'd done some talking with the others as well, to get to know them better, and apologize for leaving them for the avalanche to swallow them whole. Jade shook his head as if he were dizzy. Was he ... angry? True, he was rather irritated at being left to a freezing death, but in his heart he knew that even if the boy had stayed, it would have made little difference. It wasn't like him to fall so easily into the grasp of such emotions. Indeed, after Professor Nebilim's passing, he had schooled his face into one of stone, and his heart had hardened, as well.

Well. It was best to address such problems at the source. As Lloyd walked toward him, or rather the elevator, Jade donned one of his special smiles. His famous vampire smile, which together with his pallid skin and vivid crimson eyes made him appear much more vampiric than he was. Or perhaps he truly was a vampire, who knew? He took a few steps, approaching Lloyd. Whatever his efforts to speak with the others, the Colonel could hardly fail to notice the lad hadn't deigned to speak with him.

"Hello, Lloyd." He said, voice falsely musical. The brunette swordsman stopped dead in his tracks, wine red eyes looking wary. Jade motioned with his hand toward the elevator. "I know you must be hungry, you probably haven't eaten since we got back from Mt. Roneal." Lloyd opened his mouth, perhaps to protest this, but instead of words, he replied with a demanding growl from his stomach. Jade's smile went wide.

"Very good. I was about to get a drink myself, so why don't you join me for dinner?"

" ... Fine." Lloyd managed with a half-pout. As they went into the elevator, Jade punching in the floor number, he said, "But you're footing the bill, old man." The elevator doors closed shut, the small room beginning to go upward.

"Oh, you young people. If you keep dipping into my retirement fund, I won't have any money left to live on!"

Lloyd quirked a brow at the Colonel's sarcasm, but shrugged. "Whatever; you military types make lots of money, unless Asch told me wrong."

Jade's eyebrows climbed into his hairline, once more he was astonished, interest greatly piqued. "Really?" he said, the musical tone in his voice making him sound more dangerous than friendly. Lloyd seemed to make an effort not to step to the side, not that there was much room to step to. Up there in his Experiences Never to Repeat list with Mt. Roneal was being in an elevator with Jade.

"Y-yeah. What, do Daathic military people earn more than Malkuth ones?"

Jade pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose when they slipped slightly. His eyes were hidden under the glare on the lens. "I didn't mean their salaries. You spoke with Asch? He's not very personable."

Lloyd made a frustrated noise. "I know," he said, his face screwed as if he had swallowed something particularly sour. "He was with Natalia when I went to talk to her, so I figured I'd talk to him, too. Don't know what she sees in him; he was ready to bite my head off."

"Indeed," Jade replied, his smile making Lloyd uneasy. Though the boy leaned back casually on the elevator railing on his elbows, all his weight on one foot, the other crossed over the standing foot, it was easy for the Colonel to see the discomfort in his eyes. "If I may, what did you discuss with Asch and Natalia?"

Lloyd shrugged. "I wanted to just apologize to her, maybe get to know her better. We weren't exactly friendly on the mountain. Asch thought otherwise, from the way he had a hand on his sword."

"Indeed," Jade repeated. "And how did you go from there to talking about military salaries?"

Lloyd shrugged. "Hey, I made friends with a convict on death row. Hell if I know."

The elevator beeped upon reaching its destination. The doors slid open, and from the way Lloyd quickly vacated the elevator, Jade couldn't help but feel the lad was glad to have more open space. Maybe more room to run. It was fun to think of it that way, but at the same time a little sad. Was Jade so frightening that it made people want to run from him? He thought he was okay with not having friends, after the way his supposed best friend turned out. He shrugged it off.

This late at night, the tables on the dining floor were fairly empty. The cooks behind the counters hollered for a waitress to take care of the new customers. Since most of the tables didn't have any occupants, Jade took it upon himself to choose a table. He settled in his seat, Lloyd sitting across from him despite the available seat beside the Colonel.

The waitress came soon enough, placing two menus on the table, along with silverware rolled up in red cloth napkins. As the two occupants helped themselves, Lloyd looked up at the waitress's face. His jaw dropped, and Jade, curious, looked up at the woman helping them. His jaw did not drop, but his eyes went wide. Lloyd spoke first.

"Uh, Tear?"

The Oracle Knight shrugged, looking as confused as her companions did. She rolled her heel back, clutching her tray as a small blush came to her face.

"I-it just happened ..."

Jade shrugged as he opened his menu, looking in the liquor section first. "Well, I'm sure we could use the extra Gald. Carry on, Tear."

The three of them exchanged small talk as the two men looked over the menus, Tear recommending certain dishes as instructed by the cooks. Jade ordered first, a glass of red wine with a dinner of angel hair pasta, red tomato sauce, and breaded chicken. Lloyd said he didn't like dishes that incorporated tomatoes much, so he opted for a beef steak, medium-well. A friend told him once that you'd get the worst cut of meat if you asked for well done. Tear whisked away the menus, heading for the kitchens, still bustling with activity despite the low number of diners.

In a matter of minutes their food was brought, and a few more customers came from the elevator. Tear went to help them to their tables. Jade sipped from his glass of wine, carefully eating from his plate before he set his fork down. Lloyd, meanwhile, was busy drenching his steak with sauce. Before he could sink his teeth into his meal, Jade cleared his throat.

"Now that we've dispensed with the pleasantries," He folded his hands on the table, studying his dinner companion intently. Lloyd kept looking to show the Colonel had his attention, but he couldn't resist slicing off a piece of steak and eating it. "Tell me, Lloyd. What do you know about Luke?"

"What kind of question is that?" Lloyd said through a mouthful of steak. He swallowed, taking a swig of soda--something he'd never had before--and from the way his eyes lit up, found it positively delightful. "He's a noble born in Baticul, Duke Fabre's son. He was kept inside his manor until Tear came to kill Van and they accidently caused a hyper-whatsist that landed them in Malkuth territory. Then the war happened, and you guys tried to stop that, then Van came up to destroy the Outer Lands, and you're stopping that, too. He can be an idiot, but he's our friend. That about sums it up." He resumed eating, oblivious of the strange glint in Jade's eyes.

"Interesting," Jade took another bite of his pasta, another sip of wine. "If I may, how and why did you rescue Luke from Daath?"

"I was visiting the cathedral," Lloyd replied, still more intent on his meal. He certainly had been quite hungry. Ravenous. "I wanted to know more about Yulia's teachings. I heard some guards talking about a prisoner in the traveler's wing, so I decided to see who it was. When I found out it was Luke--"

Jade cut him off swiftly. "But why would you so easily commit yourself to rescuing a prisoner of the Oracle Knights? Surely that made you a criminal in Daath's eyes."

Lloyd paused, staring at Jade. It sounded like he was making simple dinner talk, to pass the time, but from the moment he walked into the elevator, it felt as if Jade were weaving a net to catch him in. Or trying to snare him in a lasso. He had to stop himself from laughing as he imagined Jade riding a horse, trying to rope in cattle, like many ranchers did in the Luin region.

"Well, yeah, but one of the cantors was saying Mohs was keeping him as a war prisoner, so Kimlasca would have a reason to war with Malkuth."

Nice save. That was indeed a valid reason to risk arrest in Daath, though since he made friends with Ion, it wasn't as much of a problem as it would be. But Jade would not be deterred. "Indeed. Go on."

"Anyway, I'm not one for getting involved in international power struggles, but if I didn't do anything it would violate what my dad taught me--never abandon someone in need, especially if he were going to be executed for a holy war. So I broke him out."

"Not many people," Jade sipped from his wine, "would take such a stand against Daath, most powerful state on Auldrant. Let me ask you something else: do you know about fomicry?"

Lloyd paused, tilting his head to one side, thinking. "I think I came across the name once or twice, but not really, no. Why?" He didn't know it then, but it was at that moment that Jade had snared him, and begun to rope him in. He was trapped.

"It is with fomicry that Van plans to recreate the world."

Lloyd snapped his fingers. "Ah, right! It's that technology that uses Seventh Fonons to make copies of things, right? Van wants to copy the lands and people after he kills them all, huh?"

Jade nodded, that smile ever present on his face. "Indeed. Replication of living things was placed under ban a number of years ago, but Van and the God-Generals sans Asch resurrected that forbidden technology. I don't know if Ion told you, but two years ago the Fon Master of the Order of Lorelei died without leaving a successor."

Lloyd's eyes hardened, mouth in a thin line. He wasn't stupid, or at least not entirely--his mind began to make the link, the gears in his head turning. He was on the eve of understanding, but obviously he didn't want to quite believe it. "You don't mean ..."

"Seven replicas were created from the data of the original Fon Master. Of these, the boy we know as Ion was chosen to be the Fon Master, as his abilities were closest to those of the original's. Sync, another replica, later was invested as a God-General."

Lloyd put his fork and knife down, glaring at his food. The food, so delicious before, tasted like ash in his mouth now. Though, like with the miasma toxicosis, wasn't really such a big shock. Not as much as he'd expected it to be. "So Ion's ... only two years old?" His jaw dropped. "Damn, and I thought Genis was a child prodigy!"

An odd kind of silence passed. Lloyd seemed to be waiting for Jade to go on, for it seemed the Colonel wanted to go elsewhere with this bit of information. Why was he bothering to tell him that Ion was a replica? Wouldn't it be better if Ion were to tell him for himself? The frail Fon Master reminded him strongly of Colette. There was so much on his shoulders, and he was prepared to bear the weight. Even if it might crush him. Finally Lloyd took in a breath, pushing his plate away, even though Jade kept sipping at his wine. When he drained the glass he reached for the bottle which Tear had left.

"So?" Lloyd asked, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "Where are you going with this?"

Jade smirked as he helped himself to more wine. Lloyd got the impression that alcohol never loosed his tongue, and he probably wasn't one to drown himself enough in it to allow it to happen. The Colonel said, "You haven't been completely honest with us. Or Luke. But then again, Luke hasn't been completely honest to you, either." He sighed when Lloyd repaid him with a quirked brow. "You still haven't seen it, even after meeting Asch?"

Lloyd stood so quickly his chair almost fell down. He glared hard at Jade, a deep jagged frown on his face. He clenched his fists at his sides.

"I don't know what you're trying to do," he growled low in his throat, "but whatever it is, it can wait until we've stopped Van."

"No it can't," Jade said softly, and with his gaze alone stopped Lloyd from leaving. He could see in the youth's eyes that he wanted to hear what Jade had to say, but at the same time wanted nothing more than to run very far away. "If your friendship with Luke is to survive, you must know. If we leave it up to him, you'll never know."

--

"Ion!" Luke said as he left the casino. He rushed to his friend, offering his scarf, for the Fon Master had come outside in the snow with nothing more than his Oracle robe. Ion accepted the scarf gratefully, wrapping it around his neck as Luke asked, "What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be getting rest?"

"I probably should," Ion ceded, "but I wanted to talk to you. There's something you should know; you weren't there when I told everyone else." He took a deep breath of the cold Keterburg air, perhaps for strength. "I ... two years ago, Fon Master Ion died without leaving an heir."

Luke felt as if something very hard and very fast had punched him in the stomach. His knees began to wobble, his breath became rattled as he struggled to just breathe. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

"He was ill, so Van replicated him. Of the seven replicas, I was chosen to take Ion's place and name because my abilities were his. I just don't ... have his strength. Sync, another replica, was invested as a God-General."

There was a bench nearby. Luke found his way there and sat, otherwise he would have fallen to his knees. His face was blank. Yes, it was a shock, but at the same time, he was ... relieved. A small smile came to his face. He had ... a friend, who was just like him! In a way, it made him so happy--not that Ion, like him, had been created as a replacement, to live a lie, but he wasn't alone. He had a friend who understood how it was to be a replica.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner." Ion said. Luke looked up, and to Ion's surprise and relief, he was smiling.

"Don't worry about it. I'm actually kinda happy. I'm not ... alone anymore."

Ion had a small frown. "You never were alone. Not just for me, but Tear, Guy, Jade and the others ... you always had friends. You don't have to have replica friends to not be alone."

Luke sighed. "I know that, in my head. But in my heart it's different. Who am I? Why was I created? I doubt Moth--Madam Fabre or Duke Fabre will let me back in their household. I'm not the heir to the duchy. But ... if they don't let me go back, where can I go? What can I do? I just ... don't have my own existence."

Ion stepped up to Luke, who looked up. Ion was smiling, but he raised a hand and with shocking force coming from the Fon Master, slapped Luke across the face. Luke sat there, dazed, not doing anything for half a minute. It took a while for it to register in his brain--Ion. Had. Hit. Him.

"I've always known I was a replica," Ion said, not unkindly. "And I--never wanted to be anyone's replacement. I am Ion, Fon Master of the Order of Lorelei. And even if I had to hide it, it never really bothered me that I was a replica. However I came to be, I am here, and I am alive."

Luke rubbed the side of his face that Ion had struck. He wasn't angry, though with anyone else he might have been. He worked his jaw, voice just not working. After a few moments of taxing effort, he sighed.

" ... You're strong, Ion. I could never think like that."

"Well," Ion took a few steps in the snow covered cobblestone street, thinking. The street lamps threw a soft orange glow on the snow. "If you really need to know, why don't you ask Van himself. I doubt he's going to sit back and let everyone destroy his vision."

Luke craned his neck, looking upward. There was a little bit of cloud cover, but otherwise the stars shone brightly. He always liked looking at the stars. "I think I will. Thanks, Ion."

"Though really," Ion continued in a soft voice to match the snow, "the answer you're seeking comes from not without, but within."

But Luke hadn't heard.


	29. The Absorption Gate

A/N: Yay, we has break (for whatever reason ...)! A whole week off. In more news, turns out I have in fact inherited my mother's sleep paralysis ... dammit. I found it comical, though ... if I concentrated REALLY HARD I could move my finger a little bit.

--

He lay in bed, the dark of night abolishing all light from the Sylvana continent, the Silver World of Keterburg settling into sleepy silence while the heavens shone on its snow in all their brilliant light and glory. In the other beds, occupants slept soundly, warm, toasty, cozy in their thick quilted blankets of the hotel. Their heads did not constantly drill with thoughts threatening to cave in their skulls. They were untroubled by anything other than their current predicament of preserving the Outer Lands, threats they had long since come to terms with fighting against.

His body had begun to thrum and vibrate with the pain that plagued his insides, so he had taken another dose of the medication originally prescribed to Tear. For her miasma toxicosis, the same illness he bore that, if no preventive measures toward miasma were taken care of, would prove fatal. That was not what kept him awake, boring holes in the ceiling with his eyes alone. There were so many thoughts that troubled him. So much rested on his shoulders. He had been told before that he took on too much, made the world's problems his own to solve. Truth be told, it rather felt as if the world, or multiple worlds that rested in the cradle of the stars, made their problems his. He had thought himself someone dedicated to helping others, if not a downright hero.

But that was not it. He was merely a pawn, helpless to choose where he would go, what he would do, and how he was to do it. He had begun in his own homeland, becoming Origin's champion voluntarily, for it had been the only way to save his home. He had taken on that burden of his own free will. But secretly he wondered, had he been guided toward that end all along? Had Origin without his prior knowledge coaxed him onto this path? First Origin; he had not minded using its power to save his homeland. He had chosen that. But he had bound himself to Origin that day, the indestructible chains bound him tightly. Then it was Lorelei that, in danger of ultimate obliteration, pleaded Origin for help, and whisked him across worlds to end up here, in Auldrant.

First Origin. Now Lorelei. Origin in his homeland was called the King of the Summon Spirits; Lorelei called it the Source of Heaven, Earth, and Everything In Between, the Ruler of All. What if, on other worlds, other transcendent beings had a link to Origin and called on the Source to help them, to send its champion, or scion, to that world and help that aforementioned troubled transcendent being? Would he be doomed to never return home, always called to foreign realms, never able to truly refuse to help those worlds and beings, for fear of lying to his own lifelong creed? Just like that sailor that had not asked Undine for a save trip home, and wandered the seas for twenty years before coming home, he thought bitterly.

The bitterness faded away as Ion stirred across the room. He had never been a frequenter of dark thoughts such as these. He was an almost insufferable optimistic, constantly spouting that there was always a way out, it just had to be found. He saw the way out, clear as day, but he wasn't sure if he had the strength to reach it. Not the physical strength, he had plenty of that. It was mental will he perhaps lacked. Now that he had reclaimed one half of the sword, all that remained was gathering the other, and the gate would be opened. After all, Lorelei's scion was free, he was able to do its will, what need had he of the red clad stranger that bailed him free of Daath? Plenty, his insufferably optimistic side would scream. If there was one singular reason he should continue to help out, it was because Lorelei's scion needed him. Him, as well as every single other he had come into contact with.

Idly he wondered: was Jade telling the truth on the hotel's dining floor not hours earlier? It wasn't the fact that bothered him. That, too, hadn't been as much of a surprise as the Colonel had seemingly perversely hoped it would be. What bothered him was something much more meaningful than the circumstances of one's birth.

_Luke had lied to him._

Granted, it was by omission, he had simply forgotten to mention that, oh, by the way, he was a replica of Asch the Bloody, who had been Luke fon Fabre before Van kidnapped him seven years ago. Not just any replica, either. Luke and Asch were perfect isofons, and both had inherited the power of Lorelei, supreme power and control over the Seventh Fonon and hyperresonance. Yet he could understand if being a replica and having only found it out recently made Luke uncomfortable, though that was a rather mild means of explaining it.

In a way, Luke was just like Genis and Professor Sage. Though their being different than most people was in itself a differentiation, they were two sides of the same coin. Different than most people in a way they could not help the way they were born and raised, yet that was heralded as their crime, a brand burned in their skin. Genis and Professor Sage always grieved over this imaginary brand, yet what was it he had said to them in comfort?

Don't lose sight of who you are. No matter what your background is, who your parents were, you're still you. And since you're already living and breathing in this world, your life has value and meaning.

Everyone has a right to life.

--

"I'm going to the Absorption Gate."

No doubt about it, the cold air was certainly tense, tense enough a sword might have cut through it as through a thick bar of butter. Not quite as tense as it would have been had Luke and Lloyd not taken the time to slow it down and speak with everyone last night, but the air was definitely high strung.

Asch scoffed, arms folded over his Oracle mantle. "Fine by me, dreck. Radiation Gate for me it is."

"But the question remains, who will go with whom?" Natalia asked, for that little arrangement had not been attended to before now. At this Anise donned a sly smile, nudging the Kimlascan princess with her elbow, eyes glittering.

"We all know who you're going with, Princess!"

The blonde woman burned as all eyes, including Asch's, turned on her. That quickly she was the center of attention, and the playful light of mirth was in almost everyone's eyes. Natalia averted her gaze, hands on her hips. So what if she wanted to go with Asch? It shouldn't be something to be ashamed of, as technically they were still betrothed! Though she hadn't actually confirmed that with the other party.

Jade cleared his throat, breaking the spell set over Natalia. "Be that as it may, Anise, we have yet to settle who our passage commanders will take with them."

The air was silent again, no one daring to speak, staring at original and replica. Should they choose, or have the choice made for them? As long as they had a well balanced party, there shouldn't be any well-founded objections.

Lloyd practically chomped at the bit. "I'll go with Luke." Though he said it easily, he did not look as comfortable, and seemed especially afraid to make eye contact with a certain melodist. The cold of Keterburg left her undaunted, as she seemed to emit an almost unbearable frigidity of her own.

" ... I guess I'll go to the Radiation Gate, then."

That was the way it would have to be, for each commander had to have one to help disable the passage rings' security systems so commanding could take place. Luke shifted uncomfortably, brows knit in distress.

"Tear--"

"No." She cut him off, but not unkindly. "What's important right now is lowering the land." Her other statement was unsaid, but it rang more clearly than any noise ever had in their ears: there would be time enough in all the world to pick up the pieces later.

Luke's chin dropped, obviously he was crestfallen, but he did not say anything against Tear's decision. Lloyd had a small frown, eyes fleetingly fixed on Luke, yet he kept his silence.

"I'll go with Luke." Guy volunteered, not to cheers or applause but silence.

"As will I." Jade added, cooler than the land of his birth. This was met with curious gazes, to which he replied with a shrug, "I thought I'd better keep an eye on our problem child."

"Hey," Luke said, lips upturned in what would become a pout.

"Colonel, that's not fair," Anise spoke with the tone of addressing a child much younger than she, though the Colonel was immeasurably older in body and wisdom, an ocean the young Fon Master Guardian would never cross. "Asch is just as much a problem child as Luke."

Luke's shoulders slumped, Asch's jagged frown deepened. "Anise, that's not helping," the replica muttered darkly. Asch thought himself above such tittering, and said nothing.

"Yes," Jade agreed, "however, Asch has much more experience in this kind of undertaking, and you forget he was made a God-General."

That silenced her then, and perhaps she should remain so since she was going to the Radiation Gate with Asch, the selfsame swordsman she had poked fun at. Apparently she had forgotten the time in Ortion Cavern when her jabs almost earned her a full blown Fang Blade to the face. Lucky she had Tokunaga. Nonetheless, she clapped her hands, her voice ringing cheerily over the otherwise solemn crowd.

"Well, now that that's decided, let's get a move on! The Commandant needs a serious boot to the behind!"

"Not the phrasing I'd have chosen," Natalia said under her breath, coaxing a fleeting smile from everyone in their new circle of eight.

--

The ramp dropped onto the snowy ground, clanging metallically as those aboard the Albiore III disembarked, the huge storm of fonons that normally vacuumed into the Absorption Gate funneling out at a frightening intensity and capacity. Ginji waved farewell from inside his aircraft, wishing them luck on their endeavor. The ramp was retracted, the hatch closed, though the plane stayed where it was.

Luke stared at the sight. This island was thrown in an otherworldly light, and there was no biting cold winds though snow capped the rock. The white ice did not appear to be true, either--it looked ... warm. Like one could simply curl up in it, fall asleep in unfathomable comfort and be content to never wake up again. But was that simply the lure of death's seductive embrace? Luke felt very much as if he were walking to his death--the opened Daathic Seal, though it was a small opening, seemed to suck him in the longer he stared at it. He started, a hand clapped on his shoulder.

Guy smiled ear to ear. "Let's go." Luke nodded, and their group of four strode into the doorway.

Inside, there was a collection of gasps. The warm otherworldly aura had originated from the impossible expanse of the structure inside the island that looked so tiny from inside the Albiore. Behind windows of a transparent quality but different from glass, pearls of white light fell softly, a curtain of them, innumerable as the stars enthroned in the sky. As he watched them fall, Luke could swear he heard their soft whispers.

"Memory particles," Guy said, managing to speak while everyone else but Jade stared slack jawed. "It's beautiful ... like falling snow."

"They ... have a music of their own," Luke whispered, still quite dazed. What he meant, he didn't know himself, nor did anyone want to ask. He could feel it, so immersed in the fragments of memory and the Seventh Fonons that made up this Sephiroth, one of the most powerful on the face of Auldrant. Their whispers hummed, reverberated in his very bones. It wasn't painful. On the contrary, it was soothing, gentle. If he wasn't careful he could doze off.

Footsteps clicked on the pathways, impossibly suspended in thin air. They were a dark purple, silvery lavender emblazoned symbols and Ancient Ispanian on the surface they walked upon, but the lettering was so archaic Luke could not discern its meaning. The paths wound through the air, curving to the side, swerving down below, coiling ever more down the passage that led inevitably to the heart of the Sephiroth. That led in turn to the heart of Auldrant, the planet's pulse beating swift and strong despite the the workings of a man who would see that beat stopped. Looking over the side where there was no bottom to speak of, Luke felt so very small. Time slowed to a stop, frozen. In the warm light that bathed the interior of this passage, nothing seemed to matter. In this place that commanded respect, it seemed as if the worries, concerns, and flailings of the world outside trivial. It didn't matter that the world might end, it didn't matter that one among their number was a replica, it didn't matter that another was a foreigner. They melded together into one entity, all equal before the light of Yulia, and the Dawn Age's legacy.

The road rounded to a circular platform, the strange transparent material alone separating them from a long fall that would end in a painful, disintegrating, gravitational death. Luke got dizzy when he looked down through the floor upon which he stood, so he averted his gaze to the tablet that hovered a few feet above the ground in the center of the platform. There was more Ancient Ispanian, and below that a set of lines as for a music sheet, but instead of notes, muted spheres of different colors glowed feebly. Lloyd peered at them closely, leaning to better examine it. It took a moment for Luke to realize that Lloyd wasn't looking at the spheres--he was listening. He nodded, tapped one of them on the slab. A clear sound chimed.

"Fonons," Lloyd said simply. "It makes music, but ... for what?"

"That, I imagine," Jade supplied, pointing to a barrier of red flame on a path flowing elegantly below their platform. "We must find fonons of these colors and put them in their appropriate places to go ahead."

Though no living monsters inhabited this place, ancient golems and other fontech relics roamed, programmed to kill any intruder who dared approach. So they did not split up, as Lloyd was their only healer at the moment besides their supply of medicines, which they would have rather saved for fighting any of Van's forces that showed up, or Van himself. It was tedious, but altogether they journeyed down treacherous paths that threw their balance off, threatening to make them fall. They obtained the fonic spheres of the correct colors, fighting the golems when they were cornered, avoiding confrontation as much as possible. They had visited the core once, they had no desire to repeat the experience on these terms.

They inserted the fonic spheres into their places in the floating slab. When Guy's fingers withdrew after he placed the final color, they glowed more brightly, and all of them rang in order in their respective notes, a clear chime echoing softly in the pleasantly warm air. Automatically all four dropped their eyes to the floor, or rather through it. The barrier of red flame on the swerving path below faded into nothingness, doused by the music of the spheres. Little was said among the four men as they traveled the titanic passage ring, this elegant palace of coils gently guiding its visitors down, down below to the bottom of the vortex of memory particles, the pearls of light a soft rain. Many of them fluttered down closely enough for them to touch, though they had reservations about doing so. Memory particles were different from other fonons. What would happen if they touched them? They didn't want or need to find out if something dangerous happened, so they let the pearls of light float to the roads below.

They moved as quickly as they could, but felt as if they were going about it slowly, as if in a dream. From this great height, any more golems they encountered set on killing them were a simple matter to dispose off--all they had to do was force them off the edge, and they would fall. They did not scream as their bodies ripped through the air, sometimes hitting another floor and shattering to pieces. They were not truly alive, so what did death mean to them? But whenever Luke heard the deafening smash of a golem on the floor tens of yards underneath, he would cringe and shudder. What would a monster, or a human, body sound like if they had fallen from this lofty height in a like manner? Bile rose in his throat, and he tried not to think about it.

Their road ended at another rounded platform, a shaft of light connecting it from the bottom to another platform directly below, though the difference in height was great enough that a fall from this platform to the next would undoubtedly be injurious, if not fatal. An orb of Sixth Fonons floated above the center of the floor, glowing softly, almost innocently. Lloyd reached out to touch it, when Guy grabbed his wrist.

"We don't know what that is." He reprimanded, although not unkindly.

"Go ahead and let him touch it," Jade said, a Cheshire cat grin spread on his face. When he was rewarded with incredulous looks from the the other three, he tapped his foot on the ground, perfectly smooth. "There's no fonic glyph, but the Sixth Fonons make a path, just like the ones in Daath in nature. In fact, this method of teleportation should be more reliable as this is Dawn Age technology."

Guy let his fingers go lax, releasing Lloyd's wrist. Lloyd looked uncertain, giving the Colonel a wary sideways glance. Should he touch the mysterious orb of light? What the soldier said made sense, but there was always the possibility of being wrong. What if they made a fatal mistake? He looked to Luke, as if for reassurance. Luke took a deep breath, stepping beside Lloyd before the orb of light. Together they put their hands on it. There wasn't even a vibration like the glyphs in Daath. Just a smooth transition, no jarring movements as their bodies were converted into fonons that were more easily translated along the vertical path of Sixth Fonons. They descended, the elapsed time no more than ten seconds to cover such a great distance. Their bodies materialized in their rightful forms. Luke craned his neck to look up. The floor he had just left was out of focus. An expanse of air fifty feet or more separated the two platforms. A chill ran up and down his spine. Lloyd cupped his hands around his mouth, calling upward to Guy and Jade.

"It's all right! Come on down!"

Ten seconds later, the Colonel and count's heir rejoined them. Necks craned to look up. The entrance of the passage ring--the Daathic Seal--was no longer visible. They had come quite a long way, though the fall was still just as long, if not longer, and just as deadly. All things considered, they were making good time. The flow fonons and memory particles funneling out of the Absorption Gate was faster, more intense than higher up. No longer did the memory particles float along leisurely. Down here the spell of timelessness, warmth, and wonder gave way to a semblance of their own reality. They could feel the sheer force of the Planet Storm down, the pressure pressing their bodies acutely. Their fon slots were especially sensitive as they syphoned fonons at random from the thick stream swirling all around them. They started on their way again, down the path before them.

The earthquake threw them off guard. The passage thundered with such force they swayed side to side, grabbing onto one another for support lest they slip off the edge. In this manner they waited in hellish silence for the quake to subside. They gave no thought to the floor underfoot. Yulia's architecture had withstood the test of time. Two thousand years, and still as strong as they day these relics were built. Luke noticed it first, a slight shift in the Colonel's balance.

"Jade! Look out!"

The floor gave way. Jade flung out an arm, perhaps to grab the ledge as he fell, but more of the ground cracked and splintered away. Luke lunged and grabbed the Colonel's wrist, but upon trying to hoist him up, his feet slipped on the crumbling edge and with wide eyes realized he was falling. The earthquake brought Guy and Lloyd to their knees, leaving them to watch helplessly as Luke and Jade fell, bodies flailing, Luke's terrified screaming tearing their eardrums.

They could do naught but watch, paralyzed. Luke and Jade were gone, swallowed up by the abyss of light below.


	30. The Servant and the Foreigner

A/N: Good news, everyone! A friend of mine does have a 360, and while neither of us own Vesperia, we can find someplace to rent it from. OrjustdotheTalesBrigadereferringcontest.

--

The earthquake stopped, something that was hard to believe after they braced themselves against what they hoped would be sturdy ground for what felt like an eternity and then some. The passage rings must have been reaching their breaking point, none of them shook this violently before save Akzeriuth. Then, before Guy had time enough to so much as catch his breath, Lloyd scrambled to his feet, lunging as if to throw himself into the abyss of light after Jade and Luke.

Swearing colorfully, Guy grabbed Lloyd's arms, flinging him across the platform with all the force he could muster. Lloyd was thrown to his back on the floor, crying out from surprise rather than pain. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, smoldering as they locked with Guy's. The blond swordsman took a few steps toward Lloyd, a frown etched deeply in his face as the other sat up.

"Okay, by now I'm concerned. What is Luke worth to you, for you to so readily risk your life over and over?" It was unsaid, but the allusion to the Roneal incident with the avalanche hung ominously in the air, almost like an accusation. Lloyd huffed, breaking eye contact, fists clenched, frustrated.

"Don't you care if they die? They _fell!"_

Guy clicked his tongue. "They might get hurt, but they won't die. Jade's a master fonist, and this place is teeming with an inexhaustible source of fonons." Uncomfortable silence settled between them. There was no change in Guy's expression and body language, but to Lloyd the silence was pressuring him, almost a thick cloth pushed up against his mouth to suffocate him. For a time he did nothing more than pout, thinking, as Guy awaited and answer. Unlike Luke, Lloyd, and a number of other people who would remain nameless, Guy was patient. He didn't know if Luke told the story, but he had learned his patience all those years ago as he had neared the Fabre Manor, then even more when he was inside it. Waiting.

Guy was not an expert people-watcher (like a certain anonymous Colonel), but he could tell that guilt or something like it gnawed at Lloyd's gut, though he might appear frozen to anybody else. It was true that the night before, Lloyd had come to all of Luke's companions, apologizing for leaving them in the avalanche and to simply get to know them a little better, but it might still weigh heavily in the boy's mind. Lloyd's voice was hoarse when he finally spoke.

"I ... " he gulped the lump in his throat. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Do you love him?"

_"What?" _Lloyd sputtered in disbelief. But after a few moments of stunned silence on Lloyd's part, it became painfully clear that Guy was quite serious. He shook his head. "No, not like that! I mean, he's my friend and all, but ... " Damn. Talk about awkward.

Guy never missed a beat. "Then why?" He went on. "If not for love, why would you be so willing to help him to the point of dying for him?" Lloyd could not deny willing to die for helping Luke, if that last display of attempting to jump to his death was any indication.

Lloyd rubbed his temples, sighing. Guy had every right to be concerned; he and Luke had grown up together. Seeing Lloyd so devoted to helping Luke without apparent reason no doubt seemed strange. He hung his head. Somehow, seeing Guy like this, he couldn't help but feel he was ... intruding on their lives. Like he didn't belong. He almost scoffed. What did he expect, he was a foreigner! Of course he didn't belong.

"Because ... Lorelei told me to." That at least wasn't a complete lie.

"Luke told me," Guy began thoughtfully, "that you not only freed him from Daath, but saved his life a number of times."

"Y-yeah." Lloyd looked up at Guy, brow quirked.

"What is it you're helping? Luke? Or Lorelei?"

Lloyd could have sworn Guy had drawn his katana and stabbed him, yet the swordsman remained where he was, sword still tucked away in its scabbard at his belt. Lloyd's eyes were wide, heart thumping so its beat could be felt in his ears. Did Guy honestly, truly believe that Lloyd had never cared for Luke at all, that everything they had been through together--escaping Daath, the Sheridan ambush, their arguments, their sparring, their banter aboard the Albiore with Ginji--that it had all been a lie, nothing more than a sham to hide his one true loyalty to the Seventh Sentience, not the mere fragment of its soul? Lloyd grit his teeth, fists clenched. No! Better to have actually stabbed him than to say that!

"Luke is my friend." He ground out. "I wouldn't do that to him." Even as the words left his lips, Jade's words still echoed in his mind: _You haven't been completely honest with us. Or Luke._ "And it's not just for Lorelei--there's more, but--!" He almost bit his tongue to hasten his silence. He dropped his gaze. He didn't really expect Guy to buy a story like his. There was no way he'd believe about Origin, the Eternal Sword, or his coming from another planet. According to Luke, Guy was of the belief that if it couldn't be done in the Dawn Age, it was a mere dream for Auldrantians today.

"Fine," Guy ceded, and a shocked Lloyd turned up to meet his gaze. "You have your reasons, I understand. I'm not going to interrogate you. I'm not Jade. But."

_But._ The word cut like a knife. "Promise me one thing. Jade thinks you can't be trusted, again, I'm not him. So I'll trust you, if only you trust me, as both your companion ... and your friend."

Lloyd went slack-jawed, trying to speak, but nothing of intelligible speech came. His voice was simply extinguished. They hardly knew one another! He stopped. Why not? Once upon a time he had counted among his friends a child prodigy, a well-learned teacher who had never been to school, a girl who was klutzy and bubbly on the surface yet underneath a person of immeasurable will, a quiet man who risked everything to protect his son in secrecy, a ninja who also practiced the art of summoning, a philanderer who was much more mature than he let on, a child axe-woman who had the strength of ten men, and a convicted man on death row. Why not also the designated servant and guardian of a duke's son who was himself the son of a count? Lloyd heaved a great sigh. He'd been blind.

"S-sorry. I-I didn't mean to come off so--" he stopped, staring at the hand Guy offered him. He looked up; Guy smiled good-naturedly.

"Don't worry. A friend of Luke's is a friend of mine."

Lloyd took the hand, and Guy helped him to stand. The helping hand turned into a handshake, a sign of their newly forged friendship. Lloyd returned the smile.

"Thanks."

But lingering in the back of his mind, in some filthy corner that harbored thoughts dark as pitch, a venomous voice scraped: _links newly forged often easily came undone._

_--_

Luke would remember little of the fall he had taken in the earthquake. All he recalled as they fell was the whooshing of air whistling in his ears, and his own uncontrollable, deafening screams of sheer terror ripping from his throat. Jade had not so much chirped, let alone shrieked with wild abandon. If he was frightened, he gave no indication, as cool and unflappable as he always. A flick of his wrist, the glow of a fonic glyph, and slowly their speed dwindled until they were merely floating in the air, enclosed in an orb of light. Luke's hollering faltered, he blinked back hot tears when he realized they were no longer falling. His breathing came in short strangled gasps, his hands shook terribly. He jolted when a hand clapped on his shoulder. He turned to see Jade looking at him, with an expression that was foreign to the Colonel's face. Suddenly Luke recognized it as concern. That almost stopped his heart. That wasn't how Jade--he was never concerned! At least if he did, he never showed it.

The look faded back into the Colonel's more familiar countenance of steely sternness. His frown was bent, and grim. "I would advise against," he said softly, almost as quiet as the whispers of memory particles around them, "putting yourself in further needless danger, even for the sake of others. The loss of your life weighs more heavily against a meager one like mine."

_"Muh-meager?"_ Luke choked on the word. The child prodigy who'd invented fomicry, the genius whose mastery of the fonons First through Sixth was unprecedented--meager! To hear that from Jade himself wasn't only absurd, it was ridiculous! And from underneath Luke's skin, a claw scraped the surface. The only reason Jade weighed Luke's life far heavier than his own was for this ... errand. The task of lowering the land, which couldn't be done if Luke was dead. Luke, Asch, Tear, and Lloyd were all necessary to safely lower the Outer Lands before the passage rings broke and let them all fall to their doom in the gaping maw of the Qliphoth. Before this, Luke was sure his life, the life of the murderer of Akzeriuth, the life of a replica, meant nothing to the Necromancer. But he liked to think that even if his life meant nothing, it wasn't as if the Colonel wanted him dead. If he had wanted that, he wouldn't have let Luke survive Akzeriuth.

The fonic glow around them subsided, flickering away. Their feet touched upon solid ground, the strange transparent material glimmering like frozen light. Still drawing shaky breath, his limbs trembled, and Luke fell to his knees, adrenaline pumping through his veins, the feeling of falling and its sheer horror lingered in his bones. His eyes shifted to Jade, who seemed to sway--stopping their fall with a fonic arte must have taken extraordinary strength. Strength only Colonel Jade Curtiss possessed, and he had made so little of his own life.

Suddenly overcome by dizziness, Luke leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool transparent surface of the platform. The anchor of the Planet Storm swirled, spiraling, so far below. But Luke could see the eye of the Storm, the heart of Auldrant so close now he could hear its beat, feel it pulse. His ears perked when Jade spoke.

"We must be near the passage ring. Let us move on. Can you stand, Luke?"

Luke sat upright, legs still tucked underneath him. His eyes stayed fixed on the heart of the Planet Storm. "Your ... life is not worthless. You're not worthless. So don't ever talk so casually about whose lives 'weigh more heavily.' I don't much like you ... but I don't want you to die."

Any air of solemnity and seriousness those words would have conveyed was smashed to pieces before the words even left Jade's lips.

"Now, now, whatever made you think I was simply going to fall to my death? Unless you're trying to imply something ... untoward."

But instead of getting frustrated or angry like he normally did with Jade's jabs, Luke just shrugged it off, smiling to himself as he stood. Jade acted the way he did, with dark, if not morbid, humor because he was simply Jade. And he wasn't getting any younger, so it was doubtful that he would ever change. Luke chuckled softly. Everything about Jade, the way he spoke, acted, looked, his personality, even things he had invented--was made to endure. He was the rock that stubbornly remained, even after years of ocean waves crashing against it. He was resistant to change. And Luke was glad of that, to have a constance in the kaleidoscope of his life that kept bending and twisting out of proper and natural shape.

"Y'know," Luke said as he and Jade started walking along the path before them, "it's not the same as Master Van, but you're still like a tutor and mentor to me." He would have said 'father figure' as well, but he held his tongue. He laughed when Jade grimaced, as if he had swallowed something particularly sour. "I hate teaching, I don't take apprentices, I don't impart knowledge." "Then I'll just take it on my own." "I implore you to try." "I will!"

Teasing one another in this manner, they wound their way downward, slowly approaching the bottom of the Absorption Gate.

--

Apparently cheagles had a remarkable capacity to keep quiet. When their path abruptly ended, just ceasing to exist so suddenly it appeared a knife had cut it away, Guy considered the three floating torches, the middle one stationary, the other two swinging to and fro. "We have to light all the torches simultaneously." Lloyd looked at him, confused. "How? We're not exactly fonists." Guy grinned, eyes sparkling. "Luckily, we have our very own relic of the Dawn Age." He opened his item bag, and a blue fluff of fur leaped out at Lloyd. Lloyd cried out, catching Mieu in midair. He quirked a brow. He opened his mouth to ask Guy why a cheagle would be a remnant of Dawn Age technology when a glint of gold about the little animal's body caught his eye. "The Sorcerer's Ring," Guy supplied. "It was Yulia's capacity core. Mieu can breathe fire as long as he wears it."

"And talk your language!" Mieu exclaimed cheerily in a highly squeaky voice. Lloyd could do naught but stare. He'd heard from Luke--and read in that book from Daath--that cheagles were a sacred beast of the Order of Lorelei, because they had a pact with Yulia two thousand years ago. Looking at Mieu now ... he had to admit, he was kind of disappointed. But it appeared that the little creature was simply too blissful to notice. Guy pointed to the floating torches. "Mieu, can you light those?"

"Yes, sir!" He squeaked in Lloyd's arms. After much trial and error, Mieu's fireballs lit the torches, which stopped in midair, fonic glyphs flickering into being, bridging the gap between paths. Lloyd was wary, for their bridge looked to be nothing more than light, insubstantial. Yet Guy without reservation walked right across, and indeed it held his weight. So Lloyd followed, Mieu curled about his shoulder.

The rode the paths, curving in the air, sometimes upward, others inclined down so sharply the smooth surface was almost vertical, giving them cause to be just a little bit careful. When it bottomed out to a semblance of the ground level they were familiar with, Mieu's ears twitched. Lloyd felt the furry body tense, tiny claws pin pricking through his jacket. Mieu scurried into Lloyd's bag, peeking out of the flap. Ahead, Guy drew his katana, calling a warning.

"Golems and Vita ahead!"

Lloyd drew his twin blades, and battle was joined. Though their enemies were fontech, their bodies bent and flowed flexibly as though their skins were not of metal, but ones of flesh. Lloyd slashed and stabbed at the forked vita before him, quick on his feet, raised one sword to block a blow, ducking another and turning on his heel to deliver a swift cut. Too late he noticed a shadow to his left--pain flared in his side, his body hitting the floor.

"Be careful!" Guy slew the golem with a Nihl Blade Tempest, kicking another vita aside. It tottered, almost losing its balance. "You're our only Seventh Fonist!" Lloyd coughed, getting to his feet. "That I am!" He called back, raising a fonic barrier to fend off the vita's next strike; Guardian. Lloyd was not used to being a field healer. He thrived on the front line; but now he had to be more careful. Right now, his life did not belong to him alone--as long as he was a healer, a Seventh Fonist, he was bound. For his life meant the lives of others, those he fought alongside. Even in battle, the thought made him cringe.

The noises of the fighting echoed in the passage, every little sound thundering as if a landship of Tartarus caliber opened fire. The fontech guards littered the path, cleaved into innumerable shards and pieces. Guy had weathered the battle well, bearing only minor cuts and bruises while pain lanced in Lloyd's side, a dark stream of hot blood oozing from his forehead. He panted, wiping the blood from his brow. Guy's laugh broke the silence. "Wh-what?" Lloyd asked, bewildered. What was so funny about his head bleeding? "I just thinking," Guy said, "the way you fight reminded me of Luke. Tear's always warning him to be careful."

Lloyd gathered Seventh Fonons--plentiful, so close to the Sephiroth--and healed first the weeping gash on his forehead, then the bruise in his side. He looked at Guy, who almost positively glowed with rude good health. "Are you all right?" He asked anyway. Guy waved a hand. "I'm fine. If you're okay, we'll go on." Lloyd nodded his confirmation, took a step forward.

And fell.

"Lloyd!" Guy rushed to his side, kneeling. He frowned. "It's the miasma again, isn't it?" His voice was scarcely more than a whisper. Lloyd's breathing was unsteady, cold beads of sweat dripping onto the floor. He pushed himself up on his knees, rummaging in his pocket for the medicine Tear had given him. As he swallowed the pills with a swig of water, Guy inquired, "How much do you have left?" Lloyd gulped, shaking the bottle. The pills inside rattled noisily. He pocketed it, satisfied. "Plenty." But Guy was not deterred. "Take care of yourself. Don't make us worry like Tear did. Luke hated that. If you're not feeling well, say something."

You don't have to suffer alone. To Lloyd, those words rang truer than Guy could ever know.


	31. The Radiation Gate

A/N: I love your guys' thoughts on this story! It's like getting hugs :D

--

The great vortex that was the Radiation Gate was visible even from the horizon, the titanic flow of fonons and memory particles that was supposed to be churning out of the Gate getting sucked in thanks to the reversed flow Van had set up in the passage rings.

Even as the Albiore II approached the Gate, their grim purpose looming before them, they couldn't help but admire the beauty of this anchor of the Planet Storm. This was where the Storm that fueled the whole planet began, a remnant of the Dawn Age that Yulia and Dr. Southern-Cross had invented. It was hard to believe that the Planet Storm, along with the Fonic War, had caused Auldrant to be covered in miasma, resulting in the Outer Lands today. And Van was intending to drop them all at once.

"I know the old man said something about the dividing line," Asch said, "but what are we gonna do about the miasma when all the lands are lowered?"

"Hmm," Anise said with a mischievous grin on her face. "It seems Asch isn't as bright as we thought." For Asch had already joined them by the time Jade had spoken to Spinoza about the problem of the miasma when the lands were lowered.

"Shut up and tell me," Asch said, kicking Anise's seat in front of him. Anise made a noise of protest and a hushed threat involving Tokunaga, but Tear shushed them both with her own reply.

"By lowering the lands at the same time, the dividing line, the gravitational force made by the land will push the miasma into the core. The miasma already on the surface in Chesedonia and Rugnica will get caught up in the Planet Storm, well away from the people. And the Tartarus in the core will stop the land liquefying, so we're pretty much set when we shut off the unstable passage rings."

There was a small silence after that. Noelle called a warning to fasten their seat belts, for they were going to enter the Radiation Gate soon and therefore all the turbulence brought about by its end of the Planet Storm. They buckled up, and Natalia spoke.

"Tear, didn't you and Luke get a chance to speak last night?"

Anise and Asch turned to look at Tear, sitting quietly in her own seat. She sighed.

"Yes. We talked about Van ... and how he's shackled to the Score more than anyone else because he hates it so much." She seemed down, her strong iron wall front shaking at last. The others knew, even from afar, that Tear had something for Luke in her heart, and only Luke could have made her feel this way.

She had promised she'd watch him ... and yet they had separated cruelly, by the God-Generals--by Van. When they were leaving the Meggiora Highlands, she had picked up a piece of ore found in Ortion Cavern that Legretta had dropped before they had entered Radessia's passage ring. It was like a calling card.

In Ortion Cavern, Tear had met with Van. He'd only operated one passage ring, but he wouldn't say which one. The miasma had been accumulating in his body as well. Tear had begun asking her brother why, that he was risking his life itself to get rid of the Score. But then she stopped. Remembered that Van had Luke kidnapped, imprisoned and tortured. And in the most obvious place possible. She had demanded why Van had Luke kidnapped.

She would never forget his cruel reply. So the replica trash would finally be useful for something: information on what his enemies were doing to solidify the planet's crust. And then Van had laughed, saying he had been foolish for thinking the replica could have any sort of use when it wouldn't even talk, how it was already half insane, rotting in its own filth in the dungeon ... The way he talked made Tear physically sick.

Asch and the others had caught up then. Van said something strange to Asch, something about a hypothesis or theory or whatever it was, saying that it happened to the perfect isofon cheagles kept in the cavern, and it would soon happen to Asch. Asch had gotten angry, and charged Van, only to have his side ripped open. Natalia and Tear had worked tirelessly to heal the injury.

Tear blinked, noticed Asch was still looking at her. Well, why not? "Asch, what were you and Van talking about in Ortion Cavern?"

Asch's lips parted, eyes blank as it appeared he tried to grasp for the right words. After a few moments, he turned, folding his arms as he scoffed. "Nothing of terrible importance. You know how Van wanted me to join him. It was probably some scare tactic he was trying to bluff." That easily he dismissed the issue.

Natalia and even Anise seemed to buy it, but Tear's eyes went hard. "Funny," she said. "Because Van knows a lot about fomicry. Wouldn't he have to, if he was going to replicate the world?" Indeed Van would know a lot about fomicry--he was the one who caused the collapse of Hod almost seventeen years ago, with a device that caused an artificial hyperresonance via fomicry.

"What are you talking about?" Natalia asked in alarm. In that cavern before, Jade had said that seven years after their replication, Asch and Luke were fine, an amazingly successful operation, what with so many failures and problems with using fomicry on living beings. Jade had said everything was fine for them. Everything was supposed to be fine.

Asch to anyone else might have looked the same, but Natalia still knew him well. He tensed, went rigid. He was ... hiding something? No, it couldn't be! She thought that after being stuck in his own shell for so long, that he was finally opening up, to her if not anyone else.

"It's nothing!" Asch maintained, though he couldn't quite meet anyone's eyes as he said so. Dammit. This was why he hadn't given thought to joining these people before his idiotic replica disappeared. Before he even had a chance to complete his own research into the matter, everyone was catching onto him. If only Dist hadn't said anything, damn that Reaper and his stupid perfect isofon research!

"Natalia," Anise said from her own seat, "why don't you let it go for now? Tear, too. If Asch's hiding something, just let him wait until he's ready to spill it." Was it Tear's imagination, or was there a forlorn flicker in Anise's eye as she said that?

"Heh," Asch half laughed, "I never thought you'd stick up for me."

"You'd better be grateful," Anise shot back with a devilish smile, "I could beat it out of you with Tokunaga, you know."

There was a slight pause before Asch answered. "If that doll hadn't been made by Dist, I wouldn't have taken you seriously."

Anise positively beamed. "Then you have a healthy respect, _mi amigo,"_ she said in a sing-song voice.

The Albiore gave a jolt, the light of fonons and memory particles shooting past the window as Noelle maneuvered the plane into the Radiation Gate. The currents drew the vehicle in, ever downward to the opening.

"Hold still!" Noelle said through grit teeth, trying to keep the Albiore from getting dragged in the undertow. If that happened, the plane would crash at the bottom. Needless to say, if they were smote upon the rocks, the world would be doomed. Noelle didn't feel much like a person trying to save the world, even though so much indeed rode on her shoulders.

Finally they reached the bottom of the Gate, and there was a pocket away from the pull of the Planet Storm. Noelle landed the aircraft there, making sure everything was stabilized before she allowed any of her passengers to set foot outside the craft. The hatch was opened, and even from inside the Albiore they could hear the screaming force of the Storm.

"Be careful!" Noelle waved them farewell as they disembarked. "Van's forces may be lying in wait! And Asch," The God-General looked up at the pilot, brow quirked in question. Noelle grinned. "Take care of those ladies, all right?"

"Sh-shut up!" Asch tried to sound menacing, but his voice faltered and his face burned. Natalia mirrored this, looking down modestly, Anise stared with a creepy grin, and Tear even had a small smile at this joke. As the hatch to the Albiore closed, the Fon Master Guardian giggled.

"She's right, you know. Asch is the only man here." She cupped her chin with one hand, reminiscent of Guy's mannerism. "Damn Asch, popular enough with the ladies?"

"I-it's not my fault!" Asch protested, but Natalia gave him a grin. She playfully slapped his arm.

"Asch, how could you? I thought we had something!"

"Natalia!"

"Relax, Asch," Tear said, though she did not look nearly as gloomy as she did on the Albiore. "Natalia's just teasing you."

"Wow," Anise gaped. "She's even learned to tease!"

"I wonder who I got it from?" Natalia said casually, looking right at Anise.

"Okay, that's enough! We came here to command the passage ring!" Asch started off, metaphorical storm clouds dancing over his head. Frustrated. The young women stared after him, laughing amongst themselves. It wasn't normally in their nature--at least not Tear or Natalia's--to tease like that, but he left himself so open all the time! It was hard to resist.

In this pocket away from the wrath of the Planet Storm, there was no stairway down below to where the passage ring would rest. However, there were many giant bones and spines lying around, remains of titanic monsters that tore open the floors to the way underneath. This place looked like it had seen better days. It hadn't weathered the two thousand years since it was built very well. The fonic glyphs didn't glow like they had in the other rings, or moved. Monsters roamed freely here as well.

Climbing down wasn't hard, but that didn't make it any less dangerous, what with the monsters and the possibility of an ambush. Carefully Asch's group made its way, killing the monsters, blazing a trail. The translucent material that made up the platform upon which the passage ring rested came to them abruptly.

"Here it is," Anise said, running up to the huge fonstone in the center of the ring. Tear walked forward resolutely to the pedestal, to activate the ring. Despite knowing she might die from taking in even more miasma, she fearlessly approached the control panel. As the miasma flooded into her, she had a sudden thought.

If Lloyd hadn't broken Luke out of Daath ... and if Luke hadn't decided to keep commanding passage rings on his own ... Lloyd wouldn't have helped activate them, Lloyd wouldn't have absorbed miasma in his own body. And ... if he hadn't, Tear would have had to absorb that much more as they went from passage ring to passage ring. That meant her chances of survival were that much more, because Lloyd had taken part of the burden.

She frowned. She was ashamed of herself for thinking such a thing. She wouldn't wish this on anyone, and yet she was almost happy that she might survive activating the ring, because Lloyd had absorbed miasma as well. She shouldn't be happy to be thinking that. Lloyd was suffering because of this.

"Tear, are you all right?" Natalia asked, breaking her reverie. "Is it ... the miasma?"

"I'm fine," she replied curtly. Then she sighed, shoulders bowed as if under a great weight. "It's just ... I thought that since Lloyd helped to command rings, my chances of survival are that much greater because he absorbed the miasma I would have if I activated every single ring. I shouldn't--I shouldn't be thinking that."

"You talked to Lloyd, too, right?" Anise asked. "I don't think he would have been angry if you said that to his face." She turned to Natalia. "Right?"

"That's right," the princess said after a moment of consideration. "Last night, he said to me that the reason he left in the middle of the battle with the God-Generals on Mt. Roneal was because Kratos the Ardent had left for the hostages. He said, 'Saving the world and the people right in front of us aren't exclusive of one another.' "

"Heh," Asch said from his position by the ring, "he sounds like an idealist."

Natalia gave him a look. "You weren't exactly nice to him then. I thought you didn't like him?"

Asch shrugged. "Natalia, we've known each other for a grand total of thirty minutes, half an hour. You expected us to get all buddy-buddy?"

"No, I suppose not," she tilted her head to one side. "But how did you go from glaring at him to talking about Daath's military salaries?"

Asch rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Hell if I know."

There was silence but for the howling of the Planet Storm. Anise sat on the edge of the ring, dangling her legs. "So now we've gotta wait for the commands on the Absorption Gate before we do anything?"

"Yeah," Asch said, studying the diagram above attentively. "Each of the other rings are commanded so that they'll begin lowering the land when the signal comes from the Radiation Gate. When we command the Gates ... then I suppose me and the replica will lower the land together."

"Not on my watch," said a voice from behind, dangerously female.

They spun around, reaching for their weapons as none other than Cantabile the Steadfast approached, hand on her katana hilt. Her countenance was grim, eyeing Tear. "Tear, why must you fight your own flesh and blood? Van fights for the revival of Hod, our homeland!"

"Hod is gone," Tear spat back. "Can you say otherwise? Besides, after the way Van treated Luke when he was held prisoner in Daath, I'm not of a very high opinion of _my brother_ anymore!"

"Tear, do you know Cantabile?" Anise asked, readying Tokunaga. Tear was an Oracle Knight, yes, but she had never left Yulia City prior to setting out to destroy Van. Cantabile, meanwhile, had resided in Daath.

"She was my instructor, along with Major Legretta," The melodist answered, the blade on her staff catching the light ominously. "Though they were never together."

Cantabile laughed. "No, Legretta thinks I'm trying to steal Van away from her. Van's my friend, nothing more, nothing less." She stared at Asch next, drawing her katana, with a dangerously sharp sound as she pulled it free of its scabbard. "Asch, you said you'd join Van. What are you doing here?"

Asch swung his maestro sword in the air, stepping forward, a sly grin on his face. "Surely you've figured it out, Cantabile? You've been played! That wasn't me you were talking to; that was my replica!" His voice rang with an almost obscene, no, perverse joy. Natalia gaped at him. It sounded like ... not just that Luke was an object, it was almost like Luke was a--a puppet. Nothing more than a puppet in Asch's eyes.

"When did this happen?" Anise demanded, Tokunaga in the middle of transforming.

"Just a little while after the replica's escape," Asch answered, he and Cantabile staring one another down. "He was impersonating me to get information on what Van's forces were doing." He vividly recalled when he had contacted his replica on the Albiore II at Jade's behest. In his replica's head, he could see everything, including memories. He was in the dreck's brain, after all.

Tear and Natalia were frozen, rooted to the spot. They had spoken to Luke ... but Luke said nothing of his captivity with the God-Generals, or even what he had been doing up until now. Only that he had been commanding the passage rings, to help lower the land. In that moment they both felt awful. Luke had suffered so much ... and they hadn't even realized it.

Cantabile brandished her sword, her one eye narrowed, hard. She ground out angrily, "I will not be made a fool of, Asch the Bloody! For the record, we suspected it, because your replica's play was flawed! That was why Kratos detained you on Mt. Roneal!"

_"You are to be detained on Van's orders." Kratos said, sword drawn, looking menacing even if his face was stoic. "Thank you for delivering Tear and the Fon Master, by the way."_

Asch bit his lip at the memory. At the time he had been troubled, but it had worked out on the mountain, despite the great danger they were all in. "What does that matter now?" He shot, "I'm here, opposing you! What are you and Van going to do about it?"

"Beat you to a bloody pulp," The Steadfast, normally calm, was angry. "and drag your half-dead carcass back to Van! You might not know it now, but he will have your power, whether you like it or not! You can't expect that he honestly cares for you, because you're the son of Duke Fabre, the heartless man who massacred House Gardios. Guy's family, the family of his lord and friend." She laughed, coldly, mirthlessly. "Asch the Bloody, huh? Fitting title for the son of a _butcher."_

"You take that back!" Natalia cried, nocking an arrow to her bow, pulling the bowstring taut. Tear began taking in Seventh Fonons, carefully so as not to overwork herself. She was preparing a hymn.

"Locrian Colonel," she addressed her old instructor, "You were never one to resort to this kind of petty bickering! You never let Major Legretta get to you, did you?"

Cantabile charged, knocked away Natalia's arrow in midair, pushing past Asch and Anise (who was mounted on Tokunaga), straight to Tear. As her sword and Tear's staff deadlocked, the melodist swayed, becoming somewhat dizzy.

"Dammit!" Asch cursed, swinging his sword to repel Cantabile. She dodged, parrying, sparks flying as Natalia drew another arrow, Anise gathering First Fonons. "She's a Seventh Fonist, too! She's syphoning Tear's fonons!"

Cantabile ducked under the next arrow, coming at Asch with full force. The katana of Hod make clashed with the Daathic maestro sword, a deadly dance made even more dangerous by the vivid use of strike and fonic artes, fields of fonons quickly coming and going, vacuumed by the battle participants in their rushes to make use of them first. And with the battle taking place right next to one of the most powerful fon slots on Auldrant, fonons of all types were in no short supply.

_"O hellion whose roar chills the very soul, resound!"_ Anise cried, raising her staff. _"Bloody Howling!"_

The sphere of First Fonons bore down on Cantabile, but she quickly pulled free of it, chanting a quick fon verse to heal her wounds. Asch flew with a Rending Fang Blade, his fon slots hungrily taking in fonons. The female God-General pushed him back with a Tiger Rage, a flurry of sword swings built from the basic Tiger Blade.

"Tch," Asch's clothes ripped when the katana slid over them, shallow cuts bleeding. He pushed Third Fonons into his blade, electricity dancing along the steel. He swung at Cantabile, releasing the Lightning Tiger Blade. A fonic barrier threw him back; he fell, sword clanging away. "Augh!"

By this time Tear had recovered, regained her fonons. Her voice rang loud and clear: _"O melody that beckons toward the abyss! Toue Rei Zue Kuroa Ryuo Toue Zue,"_

Cantabile cursed as the First and Seventh Fonons used in that hymn immobilized her, though she was hardy enough that Nightmare wouldn't put her to sleep. Asch scurried to retrieve his sword as he felt Natalia laying a shroud of Second Fonons over him in a Barrier fonic arte. Anise took in Fourth Fonons and threw a Maelstrom at their enemy, the water pushing Cantabile a ways from them.

Cantabile leapt to her feet, her fon slots swirling with activity. She raised a hand, her voice reverberating powerfully throughout the chamber, even over the howling of the Planet Storm, _"O violent strains that render demons to ashes! Va Neu Va Rei Va Neu Va Zue Rei!"_

The battlefield froze. Pillars of Fifth Fonons rained down on them, deflected by the defense arte Guardian. Each of them stared, jaw agape. Tear was the first one to scream, "How do you know those hymns!? Those are only known by those ... by those ..."

"Who are descended from Yulia," Cantabile finished, looking quite satisfied with herself. "But unlike the usage of passage rings, Yulia's hymns are not limited to only her descendants. If you have the ability to use the Seventh Fonon, and the talent to sing, you can use these hymns."

"But what about the symbolism, the thoughts and feelings behind those songs?!" Tear demanded. "You must understand those, too!"

Cantabile smiled wryly. "I am a citizen of Hod, Yulia's homeland. Hod was steeped in legends and records of Yulia, and you forget I'm Van's friend. He taught me these hymns, and the meaning behind them--'When the time comes, they will protect you,' he said."

"Tear," Anise said, slack-jawed, "You're shaking ..."

Asch and Natalia stared at Tear. Indeed she was shaking, with both shock and rage. Those hymns were all she had of her family. For someone not of Yulia's line to use them ... felt wrong. And Van had taught Cantabile, but not his own little sister? Granted, Tear had felt that her brother wanted her to learn them for herself, not to have it handed to her, and yet--hadn't Van had those hymns and their meanings handed down to him by their parents, before Hod's fall?

"It's like a dear friend turning against me," Tear whispered. "That's how important those hymns are to me ..."

"Tear, get a hold of yourself!" Asch yelled, gathering Fifth Fonons for a fonic arte. The fonic glyph glowed beneath his feet. _"Bring all to ash and ruin! Explosion!"_

_"Arise, O violent waters to rout my enemies! Blessed Drops!" _Cantabile countered, the Fourth and Fifth Fonons brutally canceling out one another. Without any sign of tiring, she lunged in again, Asch swinging his sword to keep her at bay while Natalia rained arrows and Anise supported Asch with strike artes courtesy of Tokunaga.

Tear breathed deeply, her fon slots almost sizzling with fonic activity. She drew in fonons once more, the glyph drawing itself at her feet. _"O magnificent song of angels ... Va Rei Zue Toue Neu Toue Ryuo Toue Kuroa,"_

The Holy Song gave herself and her allies new strength, strength they would need to take Cantabile down.


	32. One Who Would Sieze Glory

A/N: I would have updated sooner, but my little sister was teaching me to play the mario theme song on our keyboard ... ha ha. I'm trying to play the grand fonic hymn on it, but the left hand portion's killing me.

--

He sat where he was, fingers flying over the keys, guided by sound alone, his fon slots reverberating, the melodies melting into his body, a great harmony. As he played, letting himself be swallowed in the music, his fon slots were extra sensitive. He spent quite an amount of time down here at the bottom of the Absorption Gate, only a transparent platform like frozen light separating him from the planet's core, where a very gravitational, pressured death by way of pain surely awaited him if he fell.

But he sat on the organ stool with his full weight settled on it, letting his emotions out on the expansive keyboard, the sound the keys made as their tiny felt covered hammers struck the strings resounding with his very inner being. Soon. Soon they who would kill him in order to keep the world the way it was, the way they liked it, would come.

He respected them for coming so far, respected their resolve to come. But he would show respect only if and when they in turn respected him for his ideals, his beliefs. They would come here on equal grounds with him: why they were here, what they were fighting for. He fought for his vision of a replica world where humanity would no longer be shackled to the Score, because their lives would be shattered just because it was foretold.

He wanted a world where everyone could live a normal life. He wanted a world where everyone could be happy, that he could give them the happy lives he himself was unable to have, all for the sake of some prophecy. The Score was an addiction. "If you walk to the east, you will discover great riches." If that prophecy came true, then you would want to listen to the next reading, then another, until without realizing it, you can't live, can't function, without it.

Vandesdelca Musto Fende aimed to change all that. He aimed to create a new world, and be as a father to its people, give them the happy life that was so painfully ripped from him, flesh searing, blood bubbling and gushing over on the ground.

Pain. Pain was good, pain meant something was wrong. But when Van was made to live in Yulia City, made to live in Daath, made to uphold the very Score that displaced him from his life, he got angry. He would have been happy to just live, if it meant he had people who understood. But being around people who were just ... addicted to the Score. It was sickening. He kept his feelings in check for a long time, waiting.

But now he had gathered support enough to count for an entire nation in its own right, small to be sure, but a nation nonetheless. The whole army that once belonged to Daath was behind him full force, and they, too, believed in a world free of the Score, free for people to live their own lives. Just as his ancestor Yulia Jue had changed the world with her way of thought two thousand years ago, Vandesdelca Musto Fende would change the world again, with his own way of thought.

The New Dawn would give way, crumbling as would the Outer Lands into the gaping maw of the Qliphoth. The madness Yulia had fed into the world would ebb away, a new humanity, a new world, would arise, like a phoenix from its own ashes.

And he would see the flight of the phoenix.

--

"Hey! I see them! Hey!" Lloyd waved to Jade and Luke, separated from him and Guy by the floating paths of purple. They were so far away from one another that sound wouldn't reach, and their vision was slightly out of focus. Guy made a clicking noise with his tongue.

"It looks like we'll have to meet there," He pointed out another large circular platform, transparent in the middle, ringed by solid purple with silvery lavender glyphs glowing on its surface. "But there are obstacles we'll have to clear."

Lloyd sighed, shoulders slumped down. "Man, what a pain ... I hate puzzles like these."

Guy chortled, amused by Lloyd's similarity to Luke in this regard. "Well, the Absorption Gate has to be protected, right?"

"Right. Let's go."

The obstacles were straightforward in theory, but in reality they really were a pain. They came across a lever where they had to disable--not destroy--golems to weight it so they could go to another level of path, then destroy the weight with Mieu Smash when they needed to move elsewhere. Fighting the golems and vita they came across wasn't any fun in the park, either.

After one such battle where multiple enemies had them scurrying around like headless chickens, Lloyd was healing their wounds--and even Guy had more than bruises and shallow cuts this time. The glow of healing artes splayed shadows in the already spooky Absorption Gate, their panting betraying their need for rest.

" ... Say." Guy began, Lloyd's hands pressed firmly on the cut on the blond man's sword arm. "What did Luke tell you about me?"

Lloyd was concentrating on healing the ugly gash, but he was still aware of his patient to give an answer. "That you're afraid of women," here Guy visibly cringed, "that you were his servant all this life, and that you're actually the son of a Malkuthian count."

A pause. The gash was knitting itself up, but there was still a fair amount of blood oozing out. Lloyd with a rag mopped it up, the red liquid's irony stench stinging his nostrils.

" ... Did he tell the details of how that came out?"

"What do you mean?" Lloyd's brow was arched high over his head. Guy sucked in breath between his teeth, and Lloyd interpreted that as pain during the healing. "Oh, sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No," Guy said softly, "No." From the sound of it, Luke did not tell Lloyd that the only reason Guy had entered the Fabre household was to eventually kill the Duke's heir, his only son. And the truth of that dirty little secret had come out with the Curse Slot that Sync the Tempest that carved on his arm so long ago in that crowded street in Chesedonia.

Guy still remembered his own personal horror as he waited in that hotel in Grand Chokmah, after Ion removed the curse, the two-year-old replica telling him that Luke had to be away because of the nature of the Curse Slot: that Guy wouldn't have tried to kill Luke unless he already hated the red-haired noble enough to do it.

Ion had also told Luke of the Curse Slot's true nature. Guy remembered that although he was calm on the surface, on the inside he was terrified. Terrified that Luke would reject him, leave him in Grand Chokmah, with nothing but his rusted, battered Malkuthian citizenship to start his new life.

But instead of driving a wedge between them, the incident with the Curse Slot brought them closer instead. Luke had always thought of Guy as a dear friend, perhaps a brother, never just as a servant. The same had been for the others. But Lloyd, so attached to Luke, did not know. Just how would he perceive Guy if and when that truth came out? Would it drive a wedge between them, or bring them closer? Guy sorely hoped it would be the latter.

Finally, the door was opened, the way was clear to the large circular platform. The servant and the foreigner reunited with the Colonel and the replica, the three youngest much more jovial than the oldest one. They shared a group hug, the fourth content to simply stand off to the side.

"You really were okay!" Lloyd almost shouted, both his arms over Luke and Guy's shoulders, pulling them close in a warm embrace. He was so happy right now. Luke was alive, and he had a new friend by his side. Guy laughed.

"He was about to jump to his death after you, Luke."

"No, really?" Luke replied, brow quirked. "I didn't think you'd care that much ..."

"Dwarven Vow # 4," Was Lloyd's cure-all reply.

"Never abandon someone in need," Luke echoed with a wide smile.

"I take it we're prepared, then?"

The younger men turned to face Jade, their brows arched with inquiry. The Colonel shrugged.

"It's more than likely that it's Van we'll be fighting below."

Here Luke's eyes drifted to the floor, or rather, through it. The passage ring must be down there, but it the difference in height was so great he couldn't see beyond the shaft of light that made the fonic passage.

"Van ..." he said softly. He hadn't seen Van once, not since his ever-so-pleasant stay in Daath. Never saw him, the man surely was much too busy with his own plans to bother personally seeing the failed replica. Even though he had never seen Van, Luke knew that it was on Van's order he was imprisoned, it was on Van's order he had been brutally abused and tortured.

And now he was about to go see Van for himself. He was going to have to fight Van if he wanted to keep this world the way it already was. What Luke couldn't understand was how Van planned to make his replica world work if he hated Luke so much, his very first living replica. How could he entrust the world to a new humanity of replicas if he treated Luke like the dirt he walked on?

"Luke?" Guy asked, putting a hand on the red-haired noble's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Luke narrowed his eyes, the dark, poisonous green returning to him when mere moments ago they were bright like the leaves of a young spring tree. Before, he had been all child, all immature. Now he had two sides to him--the young child when he was with his friends, then the troubled young man forced into adulthood by his few weeks' stay in Daath.

The dark poison vanished from his eyes at Guy's question.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Guy didn't look convinced, but he left his friend alone. Their formation was decided: Jade in the rear for his fonic artes, Luke and Guy in the front lines, and Lloyd in the middle line for his healing artes.

Lloyd was still getting the hang of being a field healer, but he had learned more powerful healing artes along the way, and even learned to utilize fields of fonons to help him in that regard. Luke also had mastered fonic artes of his own, though many of them had been Asch's. With a grimace Luke remembered thinking: with the Albert style and then the same fonic artes, he was truly Asch's replica now.

They touched upon the orb of Sixth Fonons as they had before with the previous elevator--for it was an elevator, just made possible with very advanced fonic artes--and watched the eerie anchor of the Planet Storm pass before their eyes.

The tunnel of light ended, they touched upon transparent, but solid ground once again. The intense music of an organ filled the air, over the whooshing of the Planet Storm, though they were in a pocket, untouched by the huge stream of fonons. If the passage ring were in the middle of the Storm, it would have been destroyed.

Luke turned around, left hand already grasping the hilt of his short sword. He saw the huge pipe organ, gigantic, making the man who played its keys look quite small, when he knew the opposite to be true. It'd been a long time since they saw one another, but there was no mistaking the silver-bronze hair tied up in a ponytail, the black on white Oracle mantle. Those were as familiar to Luke as the sword on his back.

Slowly Luke approached, his footfalls drowned in the passionate organ music, the floor underfoot smooth and white as frozen light. Memory particles rained all around them, the arching dark purple structure sheltering them from the ravages of the Planet Storm. The organist still played.

"Why are you here?" The deep, authoritative voice stopped Luke dead in his tracks. "It was Asch--the original--who was meant to come, to build a new order together with me."

The organist bearing the Oracle mantle rose slowly, turned slightly, eyes cold and hard, chips of winter frost. The frown was jagged and deep.

"Don't get in my way, replica!"

_Replica. _He said the word with such distaste, spat it out like it was something revolting, like poison drawn from a wound. Luke stood his ground, his eyes smoldering as he looked on the man that had a hand in raising him, spent seven years building an unbreakable bond, then cruelly shattered it to pieces. He was something of a father, and he had simply abandoned Luke. Left him to die.

Luke could have accepted that, if he had only left him to die. But no. In addition to leaving him for dead in the remains of the Akzeriuth passage ring, this man had Luke kidnapped, imprisoned, isolated, and tortured. It was because of this man that the young replica had been off the edge of despair, on the brink of insanity.

But it made no sense.

Luke had loved Van like a son loved his father, and Van truly was his father, for he had literally birthed Luke seven years ago in Choral Castle, with that replication machine and Asch's genetic data. Even after that, Van had taken pains to raise Luke from a blank slate to be a son who was unconditionally loyal.

Would a father indirectly attempt to kill his own son?

Luke clenched his fists, not realizing they were shaking. He glared daggers at Van, shouting,

"Then why did you make me?! Who am I?! Why was I born?!"

Set higher than Luke by the big, round, red stairs that led up to the colossal organ, Van looked down, eyes narrowed with distaste. He almost seemed to scoff.

"Can you not live unless you were born for some purpose? That's why you're nothing more than a replica." He drummed his fingers on the organ, a perversely amused chuckle escaping from him. "Well then, you poor, pitiful replica. You were born as a throwaway pawn, a substitute to overturn Yulia's Score. That is all."

"Poor?" Luke echoed, softly at first. Then, as his anger took hold, his voice grew louder. "Pitiful! Yes, that's right, I'm a poor, pitiful replica! A puppet, that's all I am to you, isn't it, _Master!" _He slowly unclenched his hands, palms lined red with blood. "Well, you're not much of a puppeteer if you can't stop your puppet from walking of its own accord!"

Luke drew his sword, the blade making a satisfyingly sharp noise as it was ripped form its scabbard. Behind him, Guy and Lloyd drew their own swords, and Jade stepped back, preparing his stance for fonic arte casting. Van still single-handedly played the organ, considering the replica's words. Yet Luke wasn't finished.

"Besides," he swung his sword in the air, slashing so the light bent sharply off the metal. "My existence threw the Score off track!"

Here Van really did scoff. He made a disgusted noise. "An insignificant deviation like you is as nothing before Yulia's Score. Though its leaves may change, the true essence of the tree does not. The Score is a drug. Over two thousand years, Yulia has caused mankind to become addicted to the Score." He forcibly slammed the keys of the organ, the resulting clashing of notes hard on the ears.

"A powerful medicine is needed to remedy two thousand years of distortion."

Jade pushed his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose, crimson eyes cool.

"And your replica world is that medicine? You have quite the imagination."

Van laughed, lifting his hands from the keyboard, so the awful scream of notes just stopped. "Imagination ... Yes, perhaps we can call it that."

"It's true," Guy called, silent before now, "that this world is twisted, ruled by the Score." He swung his katana once, trying to get used to the idea of striking Van, his former servant and guardian. "But a replica world is a pretty twisted idea, too."

Lloyd wasn't about to be left out in this heated philosophical discussion. He called to Van from his position in the middle of the formation:

"Tear's your only family, right? If you don't stop this, you're forcing her to suffer! Think of her!"

But so engrossed was Van in his own grievances of losing his homeland and curing mankind's otherwise irreversible addiction to the Score, he had passed the point of no return, even for his own family.

"Mystearica ... it is indeed unfortunate. If only she'd stayed in Yulia City, I could have at least spared her." He looked around, his bent frown going even deeper, if that were at all possible. "Where is she?"

"With Asch," Luke supplied. "At the Radiation Gate, helping us to lower the Outer Lands. Opposing you!"

"Besides, you're making a world of replicas, right?" Guy added. "Then just kill her and make a replica while you're at it."

Van turned to face his enemies, at the top of the blood red stairs. There were only four of them compared to the total of eight. Their forces had been split, one on each pole of the world, one for the Absorption Gate, one for the Radiation Gate.

" ... I see. So even she insists on fighting me, even if she isn't here to oppose me in person."

The organ music died as its player left the instrument. Icy tundra eyes locked with poisonous green. As Van approached slowly, drawing his own blade, the dark sword with an eye of amber gold embedded in the hilt, Luke spread his feet apart, ready for battle.

"Van ... once upon a time, your acknowledging me was all I ever wanted,"

Another slow step, one stair at a time.

"But now ... after the way you had me treated under Daath's cathedral ... I don't love you anymore! I _hate_ you!"

Van laughed, swinging his sword. "Still quite the child, I see. You don't understand what you're saying. You cannot hate what you cannot also love."

"Shut up!"

Van was finished walking now. He raised his sword, dashing full speed at Luke, the passage commander, the only real obstacle to his new world order of a replica world. He had tried to get rid of the passage commander before, but the red-haired replica had proved himself as tenacious as a cockroach.

He had to stop them here, he had to bind the little bird's wings before it could fly on its own.

--

A/N: Uhm ... I really don't know what to say about this chapter. Really long, it kept dragging its feet, kind of like the Roneal segment. But it should be noted now I'm not ending this story after the Outer Lands are lowered. It continues, like in the game, all the way to Eldrant.


	33. The Vermillion Sheen

A/N: I apologize for the wait. The last week was pretty crazy; my aunt and uncle had to leave town, so my three younger cousins stayed at our place, so there was little opportunity to come to the computer to update.

Also, before we begin, I'd like to say something that I should have mentioned when Cantabile was introduced--Cantabile is not my OC, she was in Tales of Fandom Vol. 2, and her name is in the Oracle Knight Hierarchy book in Daath's library as the Commander of the Sixth Division of Oracle Knights.

--

The force of the arcane arte had Luke rolling across the impossibly smooth platform at unbelievable speed, the deepest, innermost chamber of the Absorption Gate jarring and twisting in a kaleidoscope before his very eyes. His sword master was a white-grey blur, Sixth Fonons searing into a Radiant Dragon that tore through the air right toward him.

Struggling just to breathe properly, Luke flung up the Vorpal Sword, its blade shining indigo as a fonic barrier materialized before him. The sheer force of the beam of light that was the Radiant Dragon floored him--but he was still alive, still able to fight. He jumped up to his feet, staggering with dizziness.

"Luke!" Guy cried out, Third Fonons rolling off him in waves as a coiling Severing Wind; he attempted to cut off Van's path from Luke. Van eliminated the Third Fonons with Second ones in a single swipe of his blade, the resulting fonon interference brought by opposing elements forcing Guy backward. The last heir of House Gardios flipped in the air, landing on his feet.

Guy lunged at Van, their swords throwing sparks as they deadlocked. Lloyd took advantage of the stolen time to dash to Luke's side, chanting a fon verse as he ran, his fon slots vacuuming Third Fonons, those left over from the Severing Wind.

_"I won't let you die!"_ Lloyd shouted, close enough to Luke that his healing arte would reach, _"Healing Wind!"_

"Thanks," Luke called back, charging Van once more, renewed by the healing arte. He and Guy took turns darting into harry Van, stepping back when the lyrics of a Yulian fonic hymn left Van's lips, or his body glowed with an absurdly powerful arcane arte. From the rear line, Jade's voice was layered with fonic resonance.

_"Arise, O violent waters, to route mine enemies!"_

Three swordsmen taking on the one powerful enemy was far too risky--Guy and Luke might've gotten injured in the confused fray--so Lloyd, as hard as it was to stand back, concentrated on supporting the two with assaulting Van with his fresh knowledge and dim experience in being a Seventh Fonist. First he gathered Second Fonons to give them Barriers, then Fifth ones for Sharpness fonic artes. Not too far away, Jade executed his own fonic arte.

_"Blessed Drops!"_

Gouts of frigid water congealed, descended on Van--Guy and Luke leapt out of the way--the water pressure bore down on the Commandant. Guy and Luke locked eyes, simultaneously taking in the copious amounts of Fourth Fonons the Colonel had provided them. Just as they made to attack, Van's voice echoed:

_"Guardian Frost!"_

Luke swore colorfully as the Fourth Fonons concentrated on his fon slots reacted to Van's arcane arte, crystallizing in rapid succession. His heart hammered against his chest, his lungs began to feel constricted, warmth robbed from him, the Fourth Fonons' chain reaction threatening to encase him in a coffin of ice--

_"Infernal Prison!"_

A blast of heat nearby evaporated the frozen Fourth Fonons, jarring Luke back to movement. He looked around wildly, seeing Jade swallowing an orange gel after his Fifth fonic arte. Quickly he brandished Vorpal, thrusting at Van, for the Commandant was bearing down heavily upon Guy--a burst of fonons, and Van's voice rang out, deep and beautiful:

_"Toue Rei Zue, Kuroa Ryuo Toue Zue,"_

Luke's vision darkened, clouded by First Fonons. The Seventh Fonons mixed in with the First ones dragged Luke down, immobilizing him, the strain on his body luring him to sleep. Yes, sleep, his tired eyes would tell him. Embrace sleep, the innocent slumber that refreshed, replenished, _healed. _Even as the battlefield began to haze, fading from Luke's sight, there was a fleeting smile on his face.

After he killed that Oracle Knight on the deck of the Tartarus, after he destroyed Akzeriuth, after his captivity under the Daath Cathedral with the God-Generals, he never could simply go to sleep. Any rest he'd gotten after those events were fitful, light recluses, the rocks of the hard ground and the feather soft blankets keeping him awake. After Akzeriuth especially, he thought he'd heard a voice in his head cry, _"You've murdered--sleep no more!"_

And sleep did he no more. Until now, all he had to do was let his eyes fall closed ...

Guy's eyes drooped, his reflexes becoming sluggish and sloppy, he struggled to maintain his balance. Van raised his sword, his voice still laced with fonons, preparing to swing at the dumbstruck Luke--

_"Burn! Fiery Beast!"_ Lloyd's swords were ablaze, the raw power of the arcane arte pushing Van back. That was time enough for Guy to break from his reverie, though Luke still swayed where he stood, about to succumb to the fonic hymn. Lloyd and Van deadlocked swords, the red-clad swordsman calling, "Luke! Wake up! This is no time to be sleeping!"

"Lloyd, what are you doing!?" Guy demanded as he launched a Demon Fang at Van. He rushed to Luke's side, waking the sleepy noble with a rough shake on the shoulder, calling back, "You're our only healer!"

But Lloyd didn't answer, he was too busy fending off each of Van's strikes and artes, his arms flying to attack, to defend. Van held nothing back, and while Lloyd's acrobatic display of strike artes was holding up well against the Albert Style, he was losing ground fast.

Blinking rapidly, just now coming back to Auldrant, Luke sharply looked to Van--and when he saw his old sword master attempting to slice up his new friend, he shouted angrily, "Get away from him!" He lunged at the Commandant, pivoting on his foot in a Light Spear Cannon. In a flash Van repelled the blade, turning again to launch a Fifth arcane arte against Guy, saving his sword for Lloyd, who, for all his quick-footedness, couldn't get away.

Jade stood at the rear line, silently fuming, quite close to screaming his frustration at Lloyd's improvisation. The battle was tied up and tipped in Van's favor quite nicely--with Luke, Guy, and Lloyd converged on Van, who as more than handling himself quite well, there was no way Jade could get a fonic arte, or even a strike arte, in edgewise.

He wasn't Tear, but at the very least he could invoke fields of fonons for Lloyd and Luke, or Guy to use--but Van would take them before anyone else; that demonic Guardian Frost was proof of that. Jade had a bent frown, eyes fixed on the confused knot of limbs, swords, the servant, the noble, and the twin blader. He began taking in fonons, in equal portions, to produce a neutral effect. It was risky, but ...

_"O mighty explosion ..."_

Lloyd fell on his back to evade Van's Fang Blade, rolling backward, coiling his body to spring right to his feet. Luke covered for him, and Guy used a Thunder Beast to deter Van. Lloyd sprung to his feet, twin swords at the ready. He shuffled backward as Luke unleashed a Lightning Tiger Blade, the arcane arte and its Third Fonons hardly making a dent in the Commandant's Guardian defense arte. But it put some sorely needed distance between Lloyd and Van.

"Augh!"

"Dammit!"

Van darted between his lord and pupil, quickly cutting away the distance the two swordsmen had just bought for Lloyd. Lloyd, only having just recovered, stumbled backward--

_"Energy Blast!"_

The fonic arte placed between them had Lloyd and Van recoiling, rolling across the floor of frozen light. Jade sprinted in front of Lloyd, handing the younger man a few melange gels. He narrowed his blood red eyes, muttering darkly, "Putting yourself in needless danger--you're as bad as Luke."

Lloyd frowned at the Colonel's words but shook it off, swallowing one of the melange gels. He couldn't dwell on it, they were still battling Van. He drew in fonons, using support fonic artes while Jade cast for a Photon.

Luke and Guy exchanged blows with Van, fon slots swirling, syphoning from the Planet Storm raging around the passage ring. Luke wasn't Tear, Jade, or even Anise when it came to fonic artes, but he was getting the hang of it--they were just more powerful fields of fonons attacks, after all, and after practicing his hyperresonance, fonic artes came to him quite naturally.

He had even learned to build the fonic arte while fighting, something that he had never seen Anise, Tear, or Jade do, probably because they deemed it too risky. Guy, too, was taking in large amounts of fonons--Fifth Fonons--but not for a fonic arte.

Van saw this and turned on Guy, but that allowed Luke time to execute his own fonic arte.

_"O dark storm cloud,"_ Luke began chanting very quickly as Guy crossed blades with Van, _"loose your blade and run my enemy through!" _The Third Fonon was almost as natural to Luke as the Seventh; it was the first fonon type he had learned to use. He remembered well the Lightning Tiger Blade Jade had helped teach him at the Fubras River.

Luke struck the ground with Vorpal, _"Thunder Blade!"_

Guy jumped to the side, managing to keep a hold of all the Fifth Fonons he had accumulated. He began with a swing of his katana, the blade shining ominously in the light of Luke's Thunder Blade, spending itself on Van, who deflected the worst of it with a fonic barrier.

"Wanna see how strong I really am?!" Guy shouted, crouching, legs coiled beneath him, preparing to jump.

But Van smirked, looking past Guy.

Lloyd screamed, _"Resist!" _in a fonic arte meant to increase fonic defense, but it was too late. In the same kind of chain reaction Van had used in that Guardian Frost that nearly froze Guy and Luke, the four fighting Commandant Grants sensed a large concentration of Fifth Fonons congregating in the center of the platform, where the teleportation glyph of Sixth Fonons tunneled out.

A haunting voice echoed in the spacious chamber, _"O fury of crimson fire, burn! Bring all to ash and ruin! Explosion!"_

The whole chamber was alight with dark flame, red and gold shadows splayed across their faces, the four opposing Van rolling and skidding across the frictionless floor. Van alone remained standing as the executor of the Fifth fonic arte appeared out of the tunnel of light at the center of the battleground. Van had a bent smile.

"Well, well. With Cantabile deployed at the Radiation Gate, I was hardly expecting any of my other subordinates to turn up after Mt. Roneal. You're strong, I was right to invest you as a God-General."

One by one, the others were slowly getting to their feet, breathing rattling, recovering from the insane Fifth fonic arte that Jade had only enough time to deflect the worst of with his own fonic barrier. In the front line nearest the center of the platform, Luke stared, jaw agape, barely managing to stand on his own.

" ... Kratos ... ?"

In the middle of the formation, Lloyd made a face, brow furrowed. "Tch. This is what, the fifth time we've fought? Or is it the sixth?" The remark was nearly inaudible, muttered darkly under his breath as for a curse.

Jade called out in alarm, "Why did you wait so long to appear before us? If you were planning all along to help Van, you would have come sooner!"

"Kratos, what are you doing here!" Luke demanded, drowning out Jade's words. "You're aren't like the other God-Generals! You said so yourself, your loyalty to Van is not undying! Why are you here now!"

Kratos stepped forward beside Van, his one visible garnet eye locking with Luke's emerald ones. He had a black shield with a red fonic glyph carved on its surface, Flamberge in his other hand, the blade of fire seeming to glow ominously. He didn't seem particularly keen to answer Luke's question.

Calmly now, Jade said, "No matter your reasons, you have chosen to fight for Van. I'm sorry to say this to another as skilled in fonic artes as myself, but ... I must kill you."

Kratos frowned, his gaze still fixed on Luke, who stared with a disbelieving expression. "I told you, Necromancer. I have never feared death. But ... it is not you with whom I have come to cross swords." He swung Flamberge, the vermillion sheen casting splayed shadows on the ground, pointing at Luke, who still stood dumbstruck.

"I have come for _you, _Luke fon Fabre!"

--

A/N: And that's a wrap! I know, I'm bad, but I have to end it here to keep my deadline--it's five o'clock in the morning now, and I have to get to bed. I hope you all enjoyed it!


	34. Scion of Lorelei's Power

A/N: This was supposed to be up on the weekend; I haven't updated because ... I've been playing Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World. Yes, I know, shame on me. I'm almost done with it, I'm in Ginnungagap right before you fight Alice and Decus. I lost twice because Emil and Marta are thirteen and fourteen levels behind them ... ha ha ha.

--

His limbs were shaking. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see anything before him, just a rippling blade of flame that, as if in slow motion, swung toward him--

"Luke! Snap out of it!"

At Guy's calling Luke's eyes went wide, and he belatedly rolled to the side, Kratos's blade missing by barely half an inch. Guy rushed to engage Kratos, a flurry of sword swings and sparks flying. Luke stood dumbstruck, watching his servant fight with everything he had against this strange enemy that ... didn't feel like an enemy.

Why? Why did they have to kill each other like this?

_"Howl O raging wind,"_ Jade's rapid chanting was merely a murmur in the back of Luke's mind, _"and cleave mine enemies with your blade! Turbulence!"_

The sudden eruption of Third Fonons behind him in a column made Luke stagger forward, and the familiar feeling of airy Third Fonons being converted into electric charges seized his throbbing heart.

Van's voice reverberated throughout the chamber, _"Lightning Tiger Blade!"_

Floored, Luke rolled across the platform, afforded time to jump back to his feet by Jade's lower level fonic artes. Near Jade, Lloyd quickly cast a Barrier--the Second Fonons laid in a shroud before Luke, but the heavy fonons didn't weigh him down. He frowned, gripping the hilt of Vorpal tightly. He was doing nothing better than standing around aimlessly in the middle of a huge battle. He wasn't doing anything.

He was being a burden.

Van charged for him again, much faster and agile than Luke ever remembered him being. Using Vorpal as a catalyst, the young noble drew in Fourth Fonons, almost clumsily executing them in a fonic arte remembered and mastered only through his connection with his original--

_"O frigid blades, pour forth! Icicle Rain!"_

The huge shards of ice came raining down, just in time to stop Van from advancing any further. Though Luke was foolish in letting his guard down in this one instant.

_"Grave!"_

"Augh!"

Brow quirked, Luke turned to see Guy succumb to the Second fonic arte. Almost unnaturally quick, Kratos cut away the distance between him and Luke, Flamberge slicing through the air. Without thinking, Luke flung up Vorpal to defend himself.

_"Air Thrust!"_ Lloyd shouted, the Third Fonons between Luke and Kratos rallying at his call, forming blades of air that ruthlessly cut and slashed. Just before the lower level fonic arte was executed, Luke ducked--he was extremely attuned to the Third Fonon.

Kratos, however, was not so fortunate. So caught up in his notion of attacking Luke, he didn't escape the fonic arte in time. But he wasn't invested as a God-General for nothing; he dispelled the aggressive Third Fonons with one swing of his sword.

Guy, who had just been renewed by a healing arte from Lloyd, leapt back to his feet, taking Fourth Fonons and slicing Kratos in a Frigid Moon. Kratos staggered backward, murmuring a First Aid, the novice healing arte as powerful as Heal.

While Guy and Kratos furiously exchanged slashes, cuts and stabs in a brilliant show of Sigmund style vs. Aurion style, Luke had to focus on fighting Van. With Guy busy, and Lloyd being locked in his role as a supporting Seventh Fonist, it was up to him to at least keep Van at bay so Jade could cast fonic artes.

It was far easier said than done. Luke found himself throwing his sword every which way like a fool instead of executing the attacks and feints Van had drilled into him. Damn training dummy ...

Van's dark blade and Vorpal's shimmering indigo one locked, throwing sparks. Luke struggled against Van's immense strength, trying to keep his ground. It reminded him heavily of his little tussle with Cantabile in Sheridan's plaza, how she managed to debunk him with sheer power alone. But this time--

Luke abruptly broke off the deadlock, ducking Van's sword and side-stepping behind his old sword instructor. His heart thrummed and his breath rattled--_he had outmaneuvered Van. _ He raised Vorpal, intending to stab Van straight through.

Guy slashed at Kratos, but the other swordsman leapt over the attack, and when he landed, ignored Guy completely and fired a Double Demon Fang straight at Luke. The shockwaves threw Luke off his feet, sending him flying across the platform. Muttering curses under his breath, Luke had only gotten on one knee before Kratos came bearing down.

"Yulia and Lorelei!" Luke shouted vehemently, ducking the first swing, "Am I ever gonna get a break down here!?" He rolled to the side, dodging another of Kratos's strikes. He was barely on his feet when Kratos wheeled to the side, Flamberge drawing a vermillion path through the air.

Luke swung in a move meant to repel Flamberge by knocking it away, but it wasn't until their translucent blades made contact that he very suddenly, very vividly, remembered what happened at the Roneal Sephiroth.

"Is this what you were after!?" Luke shouted as the immense power thrummed up his arms, the light of the two swords melding to create an electric purple. It was indeed like Seventh Fonons interfering with one another--he was having trouble holding Vorpal steady. Time seemed to slow.

_"Guardian!" _Luke cried, the fonic barrier hastily erected violently separating Flamberge and Vorpal. They repelled one another, staggering backward across the frictionless floor. Beads of sweat rolled down Luke's face, he was breathing heavily, arms shaking. He wasn't sure if using that defense arte would have worked, but it would seem he was lucky.

Yet Kratos, undaunted, charged again, swinging Flamberge down hard on the fonic barrier shrouding Luke, who staggered under Kratos's force, sheer and powerful even held back by the barrier--emerald eyes went wide at the earsplitting _crack--_the defense arte shattered.

_"Searing Gale!" _Guy's voice somehow rose over the echoing of the broken shards of Luke's demolished fonic barrier. The Fifth Fonons suspended in midair, the slash in Kratos's side burned. The God-General grunted, staggering.

Luke leapt backward, heart hammering against his chest, teeth grit, throat hitched. Memories of Mt. Roneal, of the Sephiroth within the cold, unforgiving mountain flooded back to him in waves. Kratos, for whatever reason, was deliberately trying to cause a clash of his Flamberge and Luke's own Vorpal.

The fonon interference between the blades was reminiscent of a hyperresonance, so was Kratos truly trying to kill Luke--and everyone else--by causing it? Down here, at the bottom of the Absorption Gate, the interference of Flamberge and Vorpal could not only kill everyone here, but also sabotage, if not completely destroy, the passage ring. And if that happened ...

_The Outer Lands would fall._

"I knew it!" Luke yelled, ducking Kratos's Lightning Blade, "You're a God-General to the core! You're trying to destroy the Absorption Gate!"

Kratos didn't answer. He lunged, pivoting on one foot, Flamberge leaving a red glow in its wake in the Light Spear Cannon--sparks flew as it deadlocked, collided, with a sword. A sword that was not Vorpal. Kratos broke the deadlock, downing Guy with a Demon Spear.

Luke clumsily sidestepped Kratos's next attack, trying to figure out how not to bring Vorpal and Flamberge into contact and still manage to stay alive long enough to command the passage ring. He was trying not to panic, _trying._

"This isn't done yet, replica!"

Belatedly, Luke tried to turn, and only just barely knocked Van's sword away. Feverishly he engaged Van, almost feeling Kratos's sidelong approach. Drawing a Guardian Field, he inwardly panicked--he couldn't fight both Kratos and Van alone! Yet he had to, whether he wished it or not.

It was a furious show of agility and power--slash, swing, block, duck, thrust, parry--

"Augh!"

Luke fell forward on the ground, hard. He coughed, gripping Vorpal tightly in his left hand, the gaping slash in his side held with his right. His coat darkened, hot red liquid seeped between his fingers. The stench of blood stung his nose, and his vision swam, pain lancing up his side.

"Luke!" Jade shouted, in the middle of casting a powerful fonic arte. Lloyd inwardly cursed, busy healing Guy's wounds, who was at his best wobbly on his feet. Those engagements with Kratos had seen him almost sliced to ribbons.

"C'mon, c'mon," Lloyd muttered darkly, his and Guy's bodies illuminated by the whitish green glow of healing artes. _"Heal, __**Heal!" **_The cuts and gashes melted away, the labored breathing stopped, strength returned. Guy murmured a thanks to Lloyd, jumping to his feet and sprinting ahead to help his best friend.

Droplets of dark crimson bloomed, translucent on the transparent platform, in the overpowering light of the Planet Storm. Luke coughed, trying to stand--he could only pathetically scurry backward, his breathing short and ragged, the pain in his side blinding.

Van took his steps deliberately. Behind him, Guy lunged, but Kratos chanted his fon verse quickly, _"Wind Blade!" _It was not a lower-level fonic arte.

A great swath of Third Fonons swept through the battlefield--Jade and Lloyd were pressed to the floor, and Guy had to stick his katana in the ground, in the frictionless platform, holding on for dear life.

"Luke," Van's blade glinted ominously, "that parry was pathetic."

Luke continued to scurry backward even as Van drew near. He had keep himself from smiling wryly even through the blood, even through the pain and dizziness. Clenched in his right hand was a lemon gel, which had applied to the gash in his side. He was no healer, but ... he steadily drew in Seventh Fonons, biding his time.

When Van was but inches away, sword raised, poised to stab straight through, Luke abruptly leap to his feet, sprinting off to the side. Van's sword sliced through empty air. The sword wound was nearly healed by now, but why stop there? Luke continued to syphon Seventh Fonons, dodging Van, working his way toward Kratos.

If Kratos wanted to use something like a hyperresonance to kill Luke, well, two could play at that game.

Kratos executed another sweeping Wind Blade to keep the others down, and, his fon slots open to full capacity, began drawing in copious amounts of Sixth Fonons.

Keeping Van at twice an arm's length (not only to protect himself but also the Seventh Fonons he was accumulating), Luke quirked a brow at Kratos's actions. Sixth Fonons? He would have thought Kratos would be taking in Fifth Fonons, with Flamberge as a catalyst.

Certainly another ridiculously powerful Fifth fonic arte--like that Explosion he had entered with--was within the Ardent's means. But the fact he had chosen to gather Sixth Fonons ... like Luke, he was preparing something exceedingly powerful.

In the rear line, where Kratos's unusually strong Wind Blades pushed them back, Lloyd took for himself the vast volume of Third Fonons left over from those fonic artes.

"C'mon," He growled as Jade helped Guy to stand, his fon slots swirling, mixing Seventh Fonons with the Third, "I won't--_I won't let you die! Healing Wind!" _

The fonic glyph appeared, drawing itself underfoot, the gentle breezes carrying Seventh Fonons, healing over the wounds Jade, Guy, and Lloyd had garnered in this insane fight against two of the most powerful swordsmen ever seen on Auldrant.

As strength gradually returned, Lloyd's eyes narrowed, burning. He hated himself. Even with all his battle experience from his last journey, even having learned fonic artes and healing artes, he was still struggling in his everlasting fight with Kratos the Ardent. That time in the woods, before the great stone monument, he had thought it would be the final time he would have to face Kratos.

But it would seem he and Kratos were doomed to stand on opposite sides of the knife's edge, to see who would be cut first.

Guy ran, catching Van's blade just before the latter would have reached Luke, who was still building his amazing cache of Seventh Fonons. The Sigmund tactician had a feeling what Luke was going to attempt, though he was unsure if that was the wisest course of action. Yet if this was what it had come down to, there was likely little other choice.

Sky blue eyes locked with ones of winter tundra frost.

"Why, Gailardia?" Van's eyes narrowed, something akin to pain showing through those cold chips of ice. "Why do you lay down your very life for this refuse? My sword was pledged to House Gardios!"

Guy pushed back against Van, gaining some ground. The pool of Seventh Fonons behind them was getting stronger, just as the gathering of Sixth ones a farther ways back was getting denser, too. The hairs on Guy's neck stood on end--something _hell raising_ was coming.

"If you still think of me," Guy grunted, holding his ground, "as your lord, then it's my job to clean up after my servant's mistakes. Besides," With a Beast strike arte he and Van were forced apart. Guy's eyes were full of remorse. "Hod ... is gone." They charged, clashing again, and again. "Can you say otherwise?!"

Jade had cast a quick Energy Blast to give Guy a hand, and was preparing another fonic arte when from the corner of his eye, he saw Lloyd. The red clad dual swordsman swayed, trying to stand. Rather reminiscent of Ion collapsing after he used a Daathic fonic arte, Lloyd fell backward. Reluctantly, Jade broke off his fonic arte, rushing to the young man's side.

"Don't strain yourself," Jade muttered, administering a pineapple gel. "You've been endlessly churning out healing artes. You're still an inexperienced Seventh Fonist, and don't forget your miasma toxicosis." His blood red eyes narrowed, sharp. "Do you still have your medicine?"

Lloyd nodded, though he couldn't really speak. He coughed, forehead beaded with cold sweat, his whole body wracking with the whooping cough. His vision was blotted with white spots, he felt lightheaded. Hands shaking he withdrew the bottle of medicine from his pocket.

Jade stole a glance over his shoulder, to eye the battle. Guy was doing very well against Van, better than Luke had been faring. Speaking of, the young noble was standing off the side, standing still, eyes closed, showing a remarkable capacity for intense focus he had lacked before. With a start Jade realized Luke was gathering Seventh Fonons, much, much more than for anything like a healing arte.

As he helped Lloyd take his medicine, Jade's eyes darted around. Almost immediately they found Kratos, doing something similar, only instead of Seventh Fonons, he was gathering the Sixth. Jade's mouth went dry. Both of them, Luke and Kratos, were preparing something exceedingly powerful, of epic proportions.

"Lloyd," Jade said, giving the young man another melange gel, "I advised against this since you're our only healer, but when you're back on your feet, I want to you to engage Kratos."

Lloyd's breathing went more easily, his vision cleared, he stopped shaking. He sucked in breath, stunned. "What? Why?"

Jade stood, fists clenched at his sides. "I've seen what almost happened when Kratos and Luke crossed swords. We can't allow that to happen--if such incredible power occurs down here, not only are we dead, but the passage ring will be destroyed."

For the first time Lloyd seemed to see clearly, and when he laid eyes on the battle going on in the front line, he leapt to his feet, sprinting as fast as he could. Luke's body was glowing gold, the Seventh Fonons he held interfering with one another. His eyes opened, dark green rimmed with gold. He lunged, running for Kratos, not noticing anything else around him.

Kratos was ready. His own body was glowing with the white light of Sixth Fonons, cloaked in Rem's power as Luke was in Lorelei's. He charged to meet Luke, Flamberge raised.

"No, Kratos! Don't do it!" Lloyd found himself shouting as he came closer, though since he had been a long way in the rear line, it was taking him a while even running at full speed to reach his target.

"You're mine!" Luke yelled, the power of his hyperresonance channeled into his hands, though his entire body shimmered an almost obscene gold.

Kratos's sword glowed a blinding white light, a fonic glyph drew itself beneath his feet just as Luke stepped within its boundaries--columns of light sprang up, formed a cage, as if Rem were to capture Lorelei's perfect isofon.

_"Struggle against these holy chains," _Kratos's voice reverberated powerfully, and Lloyd, Jade, Guy, and even Van stumbled under the veritable earthquake as the Ardent's powers shook the platform they stood upon. Lloyd pushed himself off the ground, eyes wide. Azure light spiraled, flowered in elaborate swirls from Kratos's shoulders.

_"Kratos, no!"_

Gold and white mixed, a blinding beacon in the center of the platform.

_"Now, die!"_

_"Shining Bind!"_

Time slowed, flowing in an unnaturally slow motion. Jade caught up to Lloyd, enveloping them both in a giant fonic barrier. Guy stood, he and Van using their own defense artes, Guardian. Through the mingling lights of gold and white, in the very center, there shone a spark of electric purple.

_**You have not the right.**_

Jade's fonic barrier broke, and Lloyd shouted as Kratos's body, flung across the platform like little more than a fly, crashed into his own. There was another holler, another scream. From the corner of his eye Lloyd saw Van shove Guy out of harm's way before he was downed by the violently rolling body of Luke.

Everything was a blur--Luke's flight was broken by Van, who threw the replica to the ground. Shaking uncontrollably, Luke staggered, trying to fend off Van, not even seeing anything correctly, so great was the immense powers of Lorelei, Rem, and another entirely. As they exchanged blows, the platform shook, fragments of the infrastructure falling down.

"Wh-what the hell ... was that?" Guy sputtered, using his katana to support himself. He looked up, at Van and Luke fighting. Guy's eyes narrowed, his breathing slowed, then his jaw dropped in the horror as he realized what Van was doing.

_Van was steadily pushing Luke toward the edge of the platform._

"L-Luke!" Guy scrambled to his feet, slipping in his haste to rush to his best friend, and the friend who he had lost. But the shock of the incredible clash between Kratos and Luke, held back only by a meager Guardian defense arte, rendered his body powerless. He fell to his knees, far short of reaching the friend he wanted so badly to help.

"Luke! Look out!"

"G-Guy?" Luke swayed, not at all entirely focused on the task at hand. "Is that ... you?" Clumsily he swung at Van, leaning back when his old master retaliated. With inhuman strength that by no means should exist, Van knocked Vorpal from Luke's hand, the indigo blade spinning in midair before sticking into the platform yards away. Luke blinked, uncomprehending.

"That was your fatal mistake, replica!" Van slashed at Luke again, forcing him over the edge. But seconds before Luke would have fallen, he grabbed Van's wrist and actually pulled him over the edge with him. The bottom of the Absorption Gate tilted crazily--Luke flung out an arm, grabbing the ledge. He tried to pull himself up, but with one arm it was impossible.

"D-damn it," Luke muttered darkly. He looked down into the glowing core, and glared at Van, who still held onto his wrist. He aimed a kick at Van's head, spitting, "Lemme go!" But the force of the kick nearly cost Luke his grip on the ledge. Luke gave a shuddery gasp.

Van had a twisted smile. "Struggle all you like. If I die, you're dying with me!"

Van's body was dragging Luke down. He was weakened after using so much power in his Radiant Howl, and pile on the fact he took on Kratos's Shining Bind full force in addition to the clash of the two swords ... A sad smile came to Luke's face. Through the transparent platform he could see Guy and Lloyd's shocked faces.

"I'm ... sorry."

The last of his strength failing, he released the ledge, and fell.

The silence was deafening, even louder and more ear-splitting than the very roar of the Planet Storm. There was nothing but ragged breathing, eyes wide at the impossible that had just occurred before their very eyes. No, after all this time ... after they had come so far ...

"Dammit!" Guy shouted, slamming the ground with a fist, his katana clattering away on the floor, useless. "I was right there, but I couldn't--do a damn thing!" His body shook violently, exhausted from the impossible odds he had been fighting. He had no strength left.

Jade said nothing, staring long and hard at the spot where Luke had just been standing mere moments before. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if when he next opened them, that foolish replica would still be there.

"No! I refuse to accept this! _Healing Stream!" _

Fourth Fonons mixed with the Seventh, rather reminiscent of Tear's Revitalize. Strength returned, Lloyd stood, hands clenched tightly into fists, brow knit together, his wine red eyes burning dangerously.

"What do you hope to accomplish by that?" Jade snapped. "They'll merge with the Planet Storm!"

But Lloyd wasn't listening. He sprinted, far faster than anyone had ever seen him, abandoning his swords to the floor, a red blur as he ran. Guy looked up, brow quirked, confused. He clapped his hands over his mouth in sheer horror. Lloyd reached the edge of the platform, jumped--

And dove headlong to the core below.

"What the _hell?!" _Guy screamed, his voice muffled by his hands, still covering his mouth. He staggered to his feet, looking helplessly at Jade. "Wh-what are we supposed to do now? They're dead! Dead!"

"Guy, calm down!" Jade called, slowly getting to his own feet. He approached Guy, administering gels so they could regain their strength. The shaking of the platform had stopped, and the infrastructure stopped fragmenting. The passage ring was probably still usable, but if they had no commander ...

"The best thing we can do is wait. Lloyd wouldn't have bothered healing himself if he intended to commit suicide. He knows that both he and Luke are necessary for lowering the Outer Lands."

"But what can he do?" Guy moaned, distraught. "They've fallen into the _core,_ for Lorelei's sake!"

"Just wait," Jade put a hand on Guy's arm. The servant was still shaking. "Lloyd said before, 'saving the world and the people right in front of us aren't exclusive of one another.' "

Together, standing side by side, they waited, staring at the edge over which Luke, Van, and Lloyd had fallen. Through the holes in the infrastructure created by that hellish clash of two insanely powerful mystic artes, they heard the howl of the Planet Storm.

After moments that seemed to stretch into hours, Guy looked away, covering his face, yet Jade stood his vigil. As Guy began to walk dejectedly away, Jade grabbed his arm, whispering urgently, "Look."

Guy looked over his shoulder, and his eyes went wide. A turquoise light glowed strongly from beneath the platform. In a speeding flash, like a shooting star, the light darted up, ascending, floating above the platform. Guy and Jade stared, entranced.

When the light dimmed, clearing, there were collective gasps--there floated Lloyd, holding a shaken up and injured Luke in his arms, who clutched Van's sword weakly. Luke's sword wound reopened, drenching his clothes with dark blood. But even more than the bleeding Luke, Guy and Jade's eyes were fixed to the grand turquoise light that flowered from Lloyd's shoulders.

_Wings._

Lloyd Irving had wings.

"L-like an angel ..." Guy muttered, completely at a loss for words. Jade stared hard, but said nothing.

Lloyd hovered, touching down on the floor. He gently laid Luke down, glowing with the power of the Seventh Fonon, of healing artes. His wings sparkled, like a jewel, and the capacity core on his left hand shone as well.

_"I won't let you die,"_ Lloyd muttered, pouring all his strength into the healing arte. _"Healing Stream,"_

Luke coughed, eyes squeezed shut, holding onto Van's sword as if it were a lifeline. His breathing was shallow, labored, ragged. He coughed again, his entire body convulsing violently.

"I'm--I'm ... so-sorry ..."

"Don't try to talk," Jade said, kneeling beside Luke. With his fonic sight he could see that the immensely powerful healing arte was working wonders, it just needed more time. Guy stayed where he was, rooted to the spot.

"Lloyd ... what the hell are you--?"

--

A/N: I'm sorry, but I'm gonna cut it off here. There's much more, but it's gonna have to wait. To those who hate cliffhangers and the like--I could have ended this chapter when Luke fell. So, ha.


	35. Passage Commanders

A/N: Turning point! After the month or so long interlude after lowering the Outer Lands, my synopsis is all screwed up (forgot the Isle of Feres, ugh), so it might take a while for this next part of the story to be written.

Also ... thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! Three hundred plus was much much more than I had ever hoped for, since crossovers aren't really all that popular (but they're so fun to write!).

--

Luke coughed, his bleeding body convulsing violently. Streams of blood stained his mouth, and more came when he coughed again. His brow knit together, he tried to keep his eyes open, but the world swam crazily and pain lanced up his side.

But he heard voices, and felt the soothing balm of healing artes on his aching body. The Seventh Fonons in his own battered body worked in conjunction with those being fed to him via the artes, slowly but surely repairing the damage. He drew in shaky breath.

Damn Van! Even when they were falling into the core, his old sword master still had the audacity to continue swinging a sword at him. That was how the wound reopened. But Van could physically hurt him no longer. He squeezed the hilt of Van's sword, wrested from the Commandant right before that brilliant turquoise light engulfed him.

With new strength he opened his eyes, and saw Lloyd hovering over him, face screwed up in the most intense concentration he had ever seen the other swordsman possess. Lloyd never had used fonic artes of any kind before Luke and Ion began teaching him to use the Seventh to heal, and he had always handled fonons clumsily. But now he was using every bit of his strength, dexterity, and ability to channel and use the Seventh Fonon, the most difficult to control, just to heal Luke.

Luke blinked. Lloyd, too, was enveloped in that same bright turquoise aura. He blinked again, and when he next opened his eyes, his vision sharply focused. What would have been a shocked gasp turned into an ugly cough. No, that turquoise light, sparkling like a jewel ... they were--_wings. _

Lloyd's wings. Great arches of ethereal light.

Luke laughed, but it sounded no better than his coughing. Lloyd's brow quirked, making a confused expression, though amazingly the potency of his healing artes never dwindled.

"Wh-what's wrong with you, why are you laughing?"

"I was just," Luke cringed at a wave of pain, "remembering--the first time we met. You saved my life so many--times. I can't even ... return the favor." A small, sad smile. "I'm ... useless."

"Shut up," Lloyd growled, "Don't you dare say you're useless. You practically beat Cantabile and Kratos. And your mystic arte just now was amazing." His eyes went wide suddenly, and his voice quavered. His outstretched arms began to tremble, but was it from weakness, or fear? "The bleeding isn't stopping!"

Jade took a pocket knife, cutting away at Luke's coat and shirt to reach the last sword wound Van would inflict. He grimaced at the ragged flesh, at the blood endlessly gushing from just under the surface.

"I'll cauterize it."

_"What?"_ Lloyd almost broke his healing arte, "Are you sure that's gonna be okay?!"

Jade was already gathering Fifth Fonons, eyes fixed on the blood drenched gash. "We don't have a choice; if Luke can't command the ring, the Outer Lands will fall! Now Lloyd, help me!"

"O-okay!" Lloyd swallowed a pineapple gel, renewing his healing arte. With one hand he covered Luke's eyes and whispered, "It's gonna be okay, Luke ..." He grit his teeth, summing up all of his courage not to look away as Jade murmured the fon verse for a weak Fifth fonic arte.

"Ah--augh!" Luke thrashed, screaming as his wound burned ferociously. Lloyd and Jade held him down, but so consumed was he by the sheer raw, searing pain, nothing but that horrible burn on top of an already excruciatingly painful injury. He flung his limbs about in his thrashing, including the arm that held Van's sword.

"Luke, stop!" Lloyd tried to hold his friend down and continue the healing process at the same time, "we're trying to help!"

"It--_hurts!"_

Finally, Jade finished his work, and he grabbed Luke's arm, the one that held Van's bloody sword. As Lloyd executed another Healing Stream (later Luke would wonder when Lloyd had learned such a powerful healing arte), the pain faded, and Luke's hand went limp. Van's sword clattered to the floor. He lay on the ground, panting, cold sweat rolling off his brow. Cautiously Lloyd helped him to sit upright.

"A-are you okay now?"

Luke turned his head, eyes fixed on Lloyd's ethereal, otherworldly, wings.

"You ... really do have wings."

Lloyd looked away, a slight flush on his face.

"Y-yeah. Sorry I lied to you."

Jade helped Luke to stand. Lloyd followed suit, and with a flash, his wings faded, disappeared. They looked around themselves, at the half-demolished chamber. One hellish battle was all it took to nearly bring this place down, when it had withstood all other forces for two thousand years.

"Looks like Kratos got away." Guy said, sheathing his katana. He stepped closer to Luke, but he kept a good distance from Lloyd, the young man without whose support the battle would have failed. Lloyd, the one who saved Luke, and all of Auldrant in the bargain. Guy threw the dual swordsman a dirty look.

"He had wings, too. I saw them during his mystic arte. Does that make you both inhuman monsters?"

"Guy!" Luke exclaimed. "They're not monsters!"

"Then what the hell are they?!" Guy retorted, pointing accusingly at Lloyd. "They have wings, Luke! They're--he's not human!"

"Guy! How can you say such a thing! Lloyd saved me more times than I can count! And what's with you!? You and Lloyd got along just fine until now!"

Lloyd clapped a hand on Luke's shoulder, shaking his head. "It's okay, Luke." He looked at Guy, their eyes locking. He did not shrink away from those accusations.

"Even if you don't trust me ... I still trust you. As my friend."

Guy stubbornly refused to maintain the eye contact. He shrugged, walking away. His hands were clenched tightly into fists. "Well, whatever. The passage ring is below, right? Let's do this."

When Guy disappeared down the sidelong path, Luke hung his head, discouraged. Jade turned to address Lloyd, pushing his slipping eyeglasses into proper place.

"I can't pretend that what you are doesn't disturb me."

Luke abruptly looked up at the Colonel, stunned. "Jade!"

"However, I myself have been called inhuman, and a monster." Jade shrugged, the angle of his head causing light to glare off the lens of his glasses, concealing his blood red eyes. "You may very well be more 'human' than I."

"Stop talking like that!" Luke shouted, holding the sides of his head as if he had a headache. "Just ... stop it ..." He covered his face, muffling his half-sobs.

Jade remained silent as he followed Guy, making for the passage ring. A few moments of silence but for the Planet Storm passed. The destruction wreaked across the spacious chamber was astonishing. It was hard to believe what kind of hellish battle had taken place here just a short while ago.

Lloyd sighed.

"Luke, let's just command the ring, all right?"

Luke nodded, still brushing his tears away. Despite the heavy duty healing he had received, he still felt immensely shaken by the battle, worn and weak. He wondered, would he have felt so diminished if he had never been under Daath's cathedral, if the God-Generals had never captured him?

Footfalls resounded, Lloyd walked down the spiraling path that went beneath the platform, to the passage ring. Finally, after so long, after they worked so hard, risking their lives, everything they had and everything they didn't have, their goal of safely lowering the Outer Lands would be achieved.

Luke took a deep breath, relaxed his fists. A single tear rolled down his face.

"Why do things ... have to be this way?"

--

_"O magnificent song of angels! Va Rei Zue Toue Neu Toue Ryuo Toue Kuroa!"_

_"O darkened storm cloud, loose thy blade and run my enemy through!"_

_"Dual Punishment!"_

_"O unyielding aegis ... Barrier!"_

_"Thunder Blade!"_

"Hah ha ha!" C'mon, kids, you'll have to do better than that!"

Cantabile wasn't tiring, even after everything they had thrown at her. Asch's arcane artes, Anise's mystic artes, Natalia's healing artes, and Tear's hymns--Cantabile survived, and she was still going strong. She was a survivor, like Van. But Tear was no fragile selenia, not to be trampled so easily.

When Cantabile swat Asch aside--like he was nothing but a fly--and darted between Anise and Natalia, Tear neither flinched nor ran. Instead, she took her short, bladed staff and met Cantabile's katana, strike after strike after strike generating a hot shower of sparks. And since she was not casting a fonic arte, there were no fonons for Cantabile to steal, no way to weaken the melodist but to fight.

And Cantabile was just fine with that.

Tear knocked the long katana blade away, using the sparse time she bought to reach for her throwing knives. Quickly she absorbed Second Fonons, but not for a fonic arte. A glittering crystal materialized.

"Shatter! _Inlay Nocturne!"_

Jagged shards of crystal flew everywhere. Cantabile raised her arms to block her face, but the sharp pieces embedded themselves in her arms. Unflinchingly she pulled them out, streams of blood falling to the ground. She smiled at Tear, who quickly worked to invoke a field of Fourth Fonons for a Meditation healing arte.

"Well done. You are a true soldier." She raised her katana, dashing for the melodist, who was still invoking fonons.

"Oh no you don't!" Asch spat venomously, leaping in the air and firing a Lightning Tiger Blade. The sear of Third Fonons downed Cantabile, her katana clattering out of her reach. She stumbled, on her knees. She looked up, her frown jagged as Asch poised to stab her through.

"Goodbye!" He thrust down--his eyes went wide when Cantabile grabbed his wrist, pulling him down and shoving her elbow in his side. The surprising force made Asch stagger backward. The female God-General stood, hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her eyes were fixed on the passage ring displayed over their heads.

Holding his side where she had struck him, Asch followed her gaze, and his jaw dropped. The ring was glowing, the familiar golden glow of hyperresonance carving commands in a less than elegant hand on the circle that represented the Absorption Gate.

Still mounted on Tokunaga, Anise gave a whooping shout and punch of the air.

"Whoo! Yeah! Looks like Luke and the Colonel got the best of the Commandant!"

Natalia nocked another arrow to her bow, drew back the string, and let it loose. The arrow whistled in midair, flying straight at Cantabile--she stepped slightly to her left, the now stray projectile splintering on the wall. Natalia grimaced, reaching for another arrow.

"Front line, stay focused! We can't make the mistake of allowing her to live!"

Anise settled down on her fontech doll, maneuvering it to approach the enemy. With a swipe of Tokunaga's oversized paws, she put distance between Cantabile and the passage ring.

"Tear, Asch, command the ring! We'll keep her busy!" She continued to assault the woman God-General with Tokunaga's strike artes, all of which the Steadfast deflected with a fonic barrier or just dodged. Weaponless, it was only a matter of time before she finally fell.

Asch ran up to the passage ring, waving his arm at the melodist across from him. "Tear, c'mon!" She nodded, abandoning her fields of fonons to run to the pedestal. It opened almost immediately, and she stood strong even as the miasma contaminated Seventh Fonons rushed into her body.

Without bothering to sheath his sword, Asch raised his hands, glowing with hyperresonance as he bent the passage ring to his will, inscribing his commands in a quick but elegant manner on the diagram that represented the Radiation Gate. The activated passaged ring shuddered, surging with a geyser of memory particles, the great fonstone in the center of the ring shining strongly. By Lorelei's power thrumming through his very body, Asch knew the descent had begun.

A small smile teased Asch's lips. "Heh, looks like the replica's doing his job just as well." Though Tear gave him a look, he elaborated no further--as Lorelei's perfect isofons, the two of them were connected irrevocably, in more ways than was supposed to be possible.

Though the fight had been dragging on, Anise and Natalia persevered with new vigor, the endless volley of arrows and every swipe of Tokunaga's huge paws keeping Cantabile performing all sorts of acrobatics just to avoid getting hit. The two young women thought that the God-General would have tried reclaiming her fallen weapon, yet the Steadfast did nothing of the sort. Her single lavender eye was wide, as if in fear, but was it really fear for herself?

Anise bore down with a Frigid Raptor, an attack Cantabile evaded with a somersault to the side, nearer Natalia. The archer fired a Voltaic Line--the sizzling arrow surged at Cantabile's face, but in her belated dodge, it only seared her cheek. She knelt, knitting her brow together in frustration.

"Van," She murmured, throwing another look at the untidy fonic language scrawls on the Absorption Gate's diagram. She closed her eye, bowing her head. Kneeling down like that, it appeared she would have accepted defeat. Anise raised Tokunaga's paw, and Natalia drew another arrow to gladly oblige, but a sudden surge in Third Fonons caught them off guard.

_"Wind Blade!"_

The fonic arte swept over the three women, knocking Anise and Natalia to the ground. Cantabile, already kneeling, held her ground. She leapt to her feet, grabbed her fallen katana, but she made no move to attack. Instead, her good eye was transfixed on the figure that sprinted down the spinal column of a titanic monster long dead, toward the passage ring.

"Kratos?" Cantabile said slowly, incredulously. "How did you get here so quickly? Even by the fastest ship it takes at least a day to come here from the Absorption Gate!" She tilted her head quizzically. "If you did come from the other Gate."

Kratos leapt down onto the platform, panting for breath. His black uniform bordered in electric purple was bloodstained and torn, and his skin was covered in bruises and dirt. Anise groaned, climbing atop Tokunaga, the doll still hunched over. Her honey brown eyes went wide.

"Wow, you look like you've been through hell!" A devilish smile came to her lips. "I guess Luke and the Colonel kicked your ass around pretty badly!"

Kratos ignored Anise, running instead to meet with Cantabile.

"There's no time. We must go. Now."

"What about Van? If he really was--"

"Don't worry about Van. We must leave!"

Cantabile fell silent. For a single moment she stood, staring at the Ardent's visible wine red eye. She nodded, and together they fled the passage ring, fled the Radiation Gate. Anise emitted her famous ill-spirited "boo."

"They ran away? Cowards!" She shrunk Tokunaga back to his normal size, strapping the doll on her back like always. She squatted by Natalia. "Are you okay?"

Natalia rose to her feet, catching her breath. After murmuring a quick healing fon verse, she nodded. "Yes. If only we ..." Her olive green eyes dropped their gaze to the floor. "She seemed ready to finally accept defeat. We could have defeated her."

Anise waved her hand dismissively. "It's not our fault that pesky Kratos had to drop in and interfere! But don't worry. After this, they can't go back to Daath. Kimlasca and Malkuth won't have it, either."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Natalia lifted her chin, slinging her bow about her shoulders. She and Anise took a seat by the passage ring beside Tear, watching Asch cooperate with Luke in finally safely lowering all the Outer Lands.

--

The Absorption Gate's passage ring was rife with high strung tension. The air felt charged, not just because of the Planet Storm, either. Jade stood off to the side as Lloyd activated the ring, a cloud of miasma-contaminated Seventh Fonons invading his fon slots. Luke glowed gold as he scrawled his commands on the ring, the diagram overhead flashing as the Dawn Age fon machinery obeyed its commander and began the descent.

Jade stepped forward beside Luke, adjusting his glasses as he studied the passage ring's diagram. "It would seem that our theory of using the dividing line to push the miasma inside the core is working." This was enough to earn him a half smile from Luke before the replica dutifully returned to his work.

Shrugging, Jade returned to his vigil on the outer rim of the ring. He looked about: Lloyd downed another pill, drinking it down with his water bottle. Now with even more miasma inside his body, the pain was likely to be several times greater than it was before. Farther away, by the spiraling transparent path that led up to the surface of the Gate, stood Guy, arms folded over his chest, a deep frown etched in his face. Sky blue eyes, normally quite bright and jovial, were now dark, glaring daggers at the young dual swordsman who had suddenly sprouted wings.

Jade approached Guy. He knew that the latter noticed this, but to the casual passerby it appeared that nothing more was on the Sigmund swordsman's mind than directing negative energy at their Seventh Fonist. Jade cleared his throat.

"You haven't told him the truth behind your Curse Slot."

Guy finally tore his eyes away from Lloyd, gritting his teeth. "I don't think Luke told him about my Curse Slot. Just that I was afraid of women, Luke's servant and guardian, and that I'm the Gardios heir. But he doesn't know why I entered the Fabre household."

"So why would you be angry at him for keeping his own secrets?"

This time the stormy glare was directed at Jade. "Maybe because of all the dirty little secrets we've learned about on this journey--my family, the inventor of fomicry, the truth behind Luke's kidnapping, Tear's ancestry, Natalia's parentage, Van's plan--none of those were anything like _a person with wings._ How the hell is that possible, anyway?"

Jade shrugged noncommittally. "This is only from a cursory glance with my fonic sight, but it appears that capacity core and fon slot chamber on his left hand manipulates and strengthens his fonic structure to the point where he can manifest those wings at will. They are composed of much of the Third Fonon, but its primary material is ... memory particles. Like the Sephiroth Trees."

Guy's jaw dropped. He quirked a brow, staring at Jade incredulously. "Did you not see how big those wings are? Kratos's wings were much smaller than that! They had to be at least twice his arm's length! Do people really have so many memory particles?" He shook his head. "And not only that, but by projecting them outward like that ... wouldn't that affect him adversely somehow?"

Jade gave a bent smile. "His capacity core is placed on one of his fon slots. Like the passage rings, that core might artificially strengthen his fon slots to generate wings of that magnitude. But you'll notice they were translucent. The memory particles were spread out evenly, but you saw they were still powerful enough to allow him to actually fly." His intellectual curiosity buzzing, he had to make an actual effort not to be grinning like a fool. "Has it occurred to you that Lloyd might be a descendant from a family that kept some ways of the Dawn Age alive?"

Guy looked back at Lloyd, the anger in his eyes fading more to just concern. "Well, his wings did remind me of the Sephiroth Trees. And something like that certainly would apply to Dawn Age times. In one of your books you wrote that in pre-Dawn Age times, fonists were at the centers of power, and their families hoarded such secrets. Some secrets behind certain fonic artes were still kept in specific clans even during the Dawn Age."

Jade chuckled. "Even before Hod fell, there never was a complete family history of the Fende, or even Yulia's own family in her own time. It's possible that Lloyd could be a descendant of Yulia as well." He turned his gaze on Guy, still smiling. "Does he seem so inhuman to you now?"

Guy heaved a deep sigh. "That wasn't the only reason I yelled at Lloyd back there. Doesn't it bother you that Lloyd wants to get close to Luke?"

Jade quirked a brow. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I've just been thinking--how is it that Lloyd managed to rescue Luke back in Daath? Even a 'country boy' like him wouldn't bear arms against the Oracle Knights for a person they don't even know! It just doesn't make sense."

Jade cupped his chin, like he always did when he was in thought. "Kratos has Lloyd's father's sword. Perhaps Lloyd chose to help Luke simply because if Luke were an enemy of the Oracle Knights, the God-Generals would come after him again. And eventually Lloyd would have the opportunity to fight Kratos and reclaim his father's sword."

"His father's sword." Guy clenched his fists, narrowed his eyes. "But just for that, why bother getting close to Luke? And he could have reclaimed his father's sword, when that mystic arte blew Kratos away! But he chose not to. He helped Luke instead!"

Jade shrugged, tilting his head to one side. "Lloyd genuinely wants to help the people of the Outer Lands, and Luke himself. Perhaps along the way his personal vendetta didn't seem as important."

"But what if he's plotting something?" Guy protested, throwing up his arms in exasperation. "What if, like Van, he plans to manipulate Luke somehow?"

"Then why bother attempting friendship with us as well?"

"To get us to trust him!" Guy ground out. "It's not that I dislike him, or that I'm ungrateful to him for supporting us during that battle. And that sword, Vorpal. Lloyd gave that to him, and you saw what happened when Kratos's Flamberge crossed with it!" His eyes grew dark once again. "What if he and Kratos plan to use those swords to cause another Akzeriuth?"

Jade chortled, something that made Guy's face go sour again. "Why, Guy, I never knew you to be the distrustful type."

"When I was Duke Fabre's manor," Guy began, looking forlorn, "there were so many times I could have killed Luke. But after the kidnapping, it was my job to look after him, and he seemed to trust me so completely. I couldn't take advantage of that. I know what it's like to have the power to destroy someone's life, it was only thanks to raising Luke that I finally decided not to follow through. But other people are different."

The mirth faded from Jade's eyes, but the smile never left its lofty perch. "Are you feeling pushed out of place now that Luke has made a friend his own age?"

"Projected age." Guy pointed out. He said gruffly, "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little jealous that Luke stood up for Lloyd so strongly when he didn't know him nearly as long as he's known me. I ... want to trust Lloyd." He sighed exasperatedly, rubbing his temple.

"But I wanted to trust Van, too."


	36. An Uncomfortable Home

A/N: Sorry for the late-ness! I had to do a bunch of homework for school--and I still have to write my two pages of notes (front and back, yay!) for Algebra II. Also I really should practice for my Spanish oral final.

--

_Remday, Gnome-Redecan 28, ND 2018_

_I had that dream again. That dream retelling my memory of the battle at the bottom of the Absorption Gate, then the lowering of the Outer Lands afterwards. A hell of a lot happened. I didn't even know my right from left until it was all done with. I knew in my head that Mas--Van would try to kill me, but not the extremes he went through at the Gate._

_I will never forget that instant when we were falling to the planet's core below--he never let go of me. Even though we were pretty much guaranteed death upon entering the core, he wanted me _dead _so badly that he took his sword and slashed my side open, the wound I had healed (clumsily) before. _

_I remember seeing my own blood streaming in the air, like a sick sort of ribbon, as I fell. That was when Lloyd saved me. He came flying down in a bright turquoise light, grabbed me and gave Van a kick that got him away from me. I don't know why, but I had Van's sword. Guess I just wanted to make sure that bastard could never swing it at me again._

_Anyway, that turquoise light turned out to be wings, Lloyd's wings. He carried me back to the passage ring, even healed me. He's always so strong, physically and mentally. Kind of like Tear, but he's not cold like she can be._

_Later, I asked Jade about Lloyd's wings, and he said that they were made of memory particles and Third Fonons from Lloyd's own body, artifically strengthened and projected by the capacity core on his hand. Like the Sephiroth Trees. Yulia City had Asch use a device similar to stimulate the Sephiroth and raise a Tree one final time, to bring the Taratrus to the Outer Lands once again._

_Guy flipped when he saw Lloyd's wings, saying that Kratos the Ardent had wings, too, and that Kratos and Lloyd weren't human. Guy, how could you say sucha thing ... you and Lloyd got along fine until now. You were the one who told me you'd trust him, despite what Jade said about Lloyd being untrustworthy. How my trust in someone has been misplaced before._

_And you trust me, even waited for me in Aramis Spring, even after Akzeriuth. I remember catching Jade saying to Guy at the passage ring: "Why would you be angry at him for keeping his own secrets?"_

_I think I know why Guy acted that way. He thinks that Lloyd could be plotting something, like Van did. Like Guy used to. Guy would have killed me or Asch, so I guess he knows better than anyone how to deceive someone. But ... one of Lloyd's Dwarven Vows: Dwarven Vow # 18: It's better to be deceived than to deceive. _

_I want to believe in Lloyd. He's helped me so many times._

_When I was lowering the Outer Lands with Asch, I heard Lorelei's voice for the first time in a long while:_

_"Luke! I will send you the key! Use it to set me free! One who would sieze glory ... is trying to capture me ..."_

_I didn't understand what it meant, and I never received any sort of "key," so I ignored it. Before we left the Absorption Gate, I took Vorpal from the ground. It had stuck there when Van disarmed me and pushed me off the edge. I thought of leaving Van's sword stuck in the ground, like a grave marker, but after what he'd been trying to do--create a replica world, destroying the originals in the process--I figured it'd be better if the world just forgot about him._

_It's cruel to Tear, but I can't ever forgive Van, not for manipulating me, leaving me to die in Akzeriuth, or for having me imprisoned and tortured under Daath's cathedral. I still have nightmares of both Akzeriuth and Daath. I suppose it's more than I deserve after I destroyed Akzeriuth, stole Asch's place, home, family ... everything. But still. It's almost enough to make me wish I _had_ died in Akzeriuth, or in Daath's cathedral._

_But if I gave in like that, what Van said about me being nothing more than a replica, a replacement to overthrow Yulia's Score, would be validated and proven true. _

_Even if he's dead, I want to show Van he's wrong. So I brought Van's sword home with me. Like with the Sword Dancer monster we kept running into, Van's spirit might reside in the weapon he'd used in life. _

_Watch me, Van. I am your puppet no longer._

Dust had begun to gather on Luke's desk, most of all the diary that lay open upon it. Most mornings he found himself staring at that same page, that same last sentence_. I am your puppet no longer._ He would wonder, was that really true? He was Van's puppet because he had been a substitute for Asch until Akzeriuth's collapse. He was Asch's substitute still. A mere week ago after the battle at the Absorption Gate, Luke returned to the manor in Baticul.

At first he hadn't wanted to. He was going to get a job as a guardian of merchants traveling by land through Chesedonian trade routes. Fighting monsters and protecting caravans was all Luke really knew how to apply as a livelihood, after all. But Tear and Guy convinced him otherwise. Guy had said, "You told me before--you may be a replica, but you're still of House Fabre."

But it was what Tear said and done that really made Luke come back to the manor.

"Your mother has not seen you since you left for Akzeriuth. Go home, for her, if not yourself."

And she had given him her mother's star sapphire pendant. Mortified, he tried to give it back to her--it was a momento of her own late mother, who died right after she was born--but Tear insisted. Luke was the one who bought it back, anyway, technically the property belonged to him.

But what was Luke to do in a home where everyone but his kind hearted mother (or who was to say it wasn't her need to have a son, any son, to care for) treated him with fear and contempt for being a replica. He knew what kinds of things they whispered behind his back when they thought they were out of earshot. The imposter, not the true heir to the Duchy, never mind the throne. The fake who only took up space at the Duke's expense.

Poor, pitiful replica indeed.

Part of Luke was deeply discouraged and saddened by all the things people said about him behind his back--but he would think of Van, and he would remember that he had vowed to prove his old sword master wrong. To prove his old sword master wrong, he would have to prove them all wrong--he wasn't just a replica, he was his own person, with his own thoughts, feelings, and experiences. All those were his alone. Not Asch's.

So Luke led an active life once he returned to the manor--if he was to succeed the Duchy (as Duke Fabre seemed to intend, as Asch evidently had no plans to return home), he may as well learn to fit that role as well as he could. So he studied with the royal tutors how to administer land, specifically how to administer the land that was Belkend, heriditary Fabre territory. He'd been to Belkend a fair few times, and he knew the Governor by now.

He learned government, other social studies, mathematics (expanding upon his skill with budgeting the party's funds on the journey), finance, the legislative processes both on the national and local levels. He also continued to study Ancient Ispanian--the other nobles of not only Kimlasca but Malkuth knew the ancient tongue, as did the higher-ranking Daathics in the Order of Lorelei. He'd never studied so much in all his life, not even when Guy had been looking after him.

He seemed to be doing a fairly good job of making himself useful instead of just "taking up space," for the Duke never said a word against him, nor threatened to boot him to the curb. But all work and no play made Luke a very dull boy, inside and out. So as a hobby he'd continued to work on his swordplay and furthered his study of fonology and controlling his hyperresonance and fonic artes. Since he could use the Seventh Fonon, he figured he may as well work on his healing artes, too. That shabby healing job in the Absorption Gate still gave him nightmares.

Whenever he retired after a long day of studying how to be a duke, doing some sword practice and fonic artes, he'd lay on his bed, staring at his various belongings. Mainly his still open diary which he hadn't updated in forever, and Van's sword, mounted on the wall. The amber gold jewel set in the hilt that so eeriely resembled an eye always watched him. He hadn't been aware when he had started doing it, but he had developed a habit of murmuring Tear's hymns to himself before he went to sleep. He didn't know all of them yet (just the First through the Fourth of the projected seven), but singing them made him feel better in this uncomfortable home.

In this hostile home where many of the maids and servants went out of their way to not be in the same room with him, his only friends were his mother Suzanne, who loved him regardless of the circumstances of his birth, Pere who was nice, Ramdas, and then Mieu, the little cheagle who had still followed him home because his exile sentence was not yet fulfilled.

The little blue furball was curled up at Luke's side on the bed, squeaking and chirping with delight. "Master, you're so busy these days!" It positively purred. "I'm really proud of you, Master! And Natalia is, too!"

Luke's gaze lingered on the ceiling. "She would be." He said absently. He stretched, yawning. He was so tired. Though Duke Fabre still found ways of rubbing Luke's incompetence in his face--_Natalia's traveling the world on official business and you're still cooped up in here!_ Well, Luke liked to think that staying cooped up in the manor and actually doing something, like learning to succeed the Duke so Belkend wouldn't go to hell one day, was better than just staying in the manor and moping about. Which undoubtedly what Luke would have been doing, if not for the time he'd spent traveling with Lloyd. That guy had taught him a few things.

Luke had never wanted to be overly prideful ever again, but Lloyd taught him the importance of working to better oneself ... and the brunette's stubbornness might have rubbed off on him. Not doing anything upon returning home would be the most selfish, nonsensical thing Luke could have been doing. But since he had returned home, he had the role of Duke and Madam Fabre's son, even if he wasn't their real son. And as their son, he needed to learn to be a Kimlascan noble and future duke.

But this house ... was so lonely now, even with the support of Suzanne, Mieu, Natalia, Pere, and Ramdas. It was lonely because Duke Fabre had given Guy leave upon their return. Luke had never witnessed this exchange. All he knew was that he went to bed and when he awoke, Guy had been packing his bags and saying his farewell. It made Luke sad for more than one reason. He had lived with Guy all his life. Now that the blond swordsman was gone, there was an emptiness in his heart. That, and he couldn't help but feel there was some enmity between them when the sole Gardios heir had left. Certainly that bitterness had something to do with trusting Lloyd.

Yet there was one thing that bothered Luke about Guy's leaving. Guy had left behind the Jewel of Gardios, the familiy sword that Duke Fabre had claimed as a trophy after the murder of the Gardios family. Did Guy leave it behind as a symbol of putting his past behind him, taking Luke's childhood words to heart, or did he leave it so he'd have a reason to come back? He just didn't know.

Or maybe it had something to do with the fact Luke kept Van's sword, his own personal trophy for the murder of one more of the Gardios household. It was only after Guy had left and Luke pondered about this did he come to such a conclusion. Bile rose in his throat whenever he thought on it. He had the sword of one of the Gardios household he had slain, by his own hand. Just his like his father had slain Guy's father, and took his sword.

Like father, like son. He truly must be a member of House Fabre.

"Master," Mieu murmured, his small brow scrunched up worriedly. The little cheagle always knew when Luke was feeling anxious, or down. Just like now. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Not really," Luke admitted, remembering when he had asked Tear if she was pushing herself after she had shown signs of illness after activating the passage rings. Back then, they hadn't known the cause of her illness, and whenever Luke had inquired, Anise would pull him aside and scold him. Did he seriously think someone, especially someone like Tear, to say, "Yes, I'm pushing myself?" He sighed, rubbing his eyes. It was getting late, and he was expected to be up early in the morning, just like every day now. He really should be getting to sleep.

"Mieu!" Mieu chirped, jumping on Luke's chest, settling his weight so he and his master were almost nose to nose. "Well, go to sleep! There's a surprise for you in the morning!"

"Surprise?" Luke quirked a brow at the tiny cheagle. "Like what? Father's gonna kick me out after all?"

"Noooo!" Mieu shook his head, his huge ears flapping about wildly. "It's a _good_ surprise! So go to sleep and have good dreams, okay?"

Inwardly Luke wondered what it was, but it was clear Mieu was adamant about the getting to sleep part. "Okay, okay. I'll get to sleep ..."

Satisfied, Mieu curled up in a ball of fluff, managing to fall asleep in record time. The little thing was so ... weird. Luke sighed, stretching again. He didn't really feel like getting to sleep, but he did need rest. If he was going to fulfill his vow of proving Van wrong, he needed to do what he could. What he could do right now was go to sleep. Luke took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

_"Toue Rei Zue ..."_


	37. The Good Surprise

A/N: Really not much happening here, just need to get the story picking up again. Which it will when Luke goes on Operation Stalk Asch All Over Auldrant.

--

Luke groaned as he woke from his uneasy sleep, careful not to disturb the tiny cheagle that still slumbered on his pillow. Even after he helped to lower the Outer Lands, trapped the miasma, and killed Van, was he forever doomed to never be at ease? He'd had another one of his nightmares--if it wasn't Akzeriuth sinking into the planet's mantle in the bottomless sea of mud and miasma, it was being trapped under Daath's cathedral, being Sync's little pet. The thought made bile rise in his throat, made him feel sick.

The slight late autumn breeze made him shiver. The window was open, allowing the air inside. The sky was still dark, Luna shining brightly among Rem's brothers. The fonstones of the fon belt were glittering like precious jewels.

Luke wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight (dawn was but an hour or two away anyhow), so he rose, dressing silently. Thank Yulia he hadn't been so wrapped up in the life of a noble that he'd never been able to put his own clothes on. When he was a small child, he'd resented such things being done for him by his servants, and always insisted on getting dressed on his own. Guy was the only servant who'd listen to him in this regard.

He dressed simply, though the clothes themselves weren't something one would find a place like, say, Engeve. If by way of looks, Kimlasca was definitely wealthier than Malkuth--all of the Kimlascan cities were well kept, and there were no unpaved streets or livestock running amok. That could be attributed to the fact that Kimlasca was heavily industrialized, and had no rural villages.

Luke looked at his reflection in the life-size mirror with a small, bent frown. He didn't look like the punk he did when Tear had spirited him out of his manor for the first time in his life. He wore a simple long-sleeved navy blue shirt, black pants, brown boots to match, and a green-bordered white coat that had coattails, but they went only to his knees. Around his neck was Tear's pendant, the star sapphire a deep, warm blue. He wouldn't give up on trying to return it to her. He would, someday. He wouldn't steal her late mother's only keepsake away from her. She had already lost her remaining family--slain by his own hands.

Even if the fact he was a replica didn't bother her, she couldn't possibly be content with giving her mother's pendant to the same man who killed her brother. The brother who'd looked after her and visited her in Yulia City even after he had gone to live in the Outer Lands.

With a faint sigh, Luke put a hand to the mirror, to his reflection. He just didn't understand Tear at all. Why she kept acting tough, even when she was infected with the miasma in her body, why she had convinced him to come back to the manor ... why she had given him her pendant. She had been so happy to have it back when he had bought it off that merchant in Grand Chokmah ...

"Master, are you awake?"

Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Mieu rubbing his eyes sleepily, still on the pillow. His big floppy ears weren't perked like usual, they were flat, like the cheagle elder's were. Luke nodded, stretching his arms, breathing in the cool, crisp air from outside deeply.

"Yeah. You should go back to sleep. I'm gonna go get a head start on my studies."

As Luke turned the handle on the door, the cheagle chirped in affirmation, and his reply made the noble halt.

"Mieu, don't overwork yourself, Master ..."

Luke scoffed, stepping over the threshold. "Who's overdoing things?"

The courtyard was empty. This was just the way he liked it--he had been enjoying his solitude more and more often lately, when before, he had lived from others' attention. Just like Duke Fabre, he had noticed. Was that a good or bad thing--thriving from being on his own? Maybe he just liked being able to think things over by himself. Was that why Asch had insisted on working alone at all times, even when Natalia invited him to join their journey? They had been working toward the same end, after all.

Quietly as he could muster, Luke went to the manor library, gathering all his books about Albert style swordplay Van had left behind as well as the fonology books Tear had given him. Upon returning to the courtyard to begin his daily training, he had to smirk. How strange that after he had left the manor, it was Tear who had taken on the role of teaching Luke--she had tried to give him advice about using artes (which he had spurned to save his own little pride), and later she had taught him how to use the Seventh Fonon properly. She had taught him more than Van ever had, who had only instilled what Jade right called "brute force."

He began with the swordsmanship exercising. He liked to warm up, stretch, and work out a little before he handled fonons of any kind, especially the Seventh. The Seventh was hard to handle, and keeping them from going out of control was just as much a physical aspect as it was a mental one. He'd learned that the hard way after Van forced that hyperresonance that destroyed the Akzeriuth passage ring--that he was able to do anything like fight Asch almost immediately afterward as a remarkable thing that could be attributed only to his being Lorelei's perfect isofon.

After he spent some time practicing his base strike artes, he moved on to arcane artes, referring back to the Albert texts Van had left behind if he couldn't get one of them correctly. Battle was the best training one could ever receive, but what with living in the manor nowadays, there were no monsters to fight. The only thing that came close was fighting in the Coliseum, but even that couldn't compare. He knew he wouldn't die in a place like that, so that would only stint his growth.

He couldn't lose his edge. He had keep his skills up to par. He doubted Asch would have simply settled down in some city after everything that happened--surely Asch was keeping his swordsmanship as sharp as ever. In fact, Luke counted on it. With Van gone, Asch was the only other person he knew that used the Albert style better than he did. There was someone he had to aim for, someone he had to work toward besting.

"Augh! Damn it," Luke cursed as he dropped his sword, the Vorpal Sword Lloyd had given him. He had tried to return it to him after the Outer Lands were lowered, but the brunette refused, much like Tear had on the matter of her pendant. He bent over, picking up the blade of ice. He took a deep breath, then tried for the Swallow Fury arcane arte again. Once more he jumped wrong, resulting in his falling and dropping his sword. Vorpal clattered away on the ground.

He frowned, sitting where he was, rubbing his leg where he'd hit the ground. He didn't get it. Why couldn't he perform the arte correctly? He had no such trouble when he fought Van. Why stumble when he wasn't even fighting anything? How pathetic. Surely from the planet's core, or in his sword, Van was laughing at him. Luke sighed, picking up Vorpal, staring into its indigo sheen. Mieu's words echoed in his mind.

_Don't overwork yourself, Master ..._

A wry smile came to his lips as he sheathed Vorpal. "Who's overdoing things?" He took in a deep breath, spreading his feet shoulder width apart in preparation for his fonic arte exercises. He'd start with the fonon he was most familiar besides the Seventh--the Third. Using it in electric attacks was a piece of cake (though his Thunder Blade was still a far cry from Jade's), but he was still getting the hang of using them in an airy aspect. He murmured the fon verse, his fon slots vacuuming in the Third Fonons all around him.

_"Howl, O raging wind ... and cleave my enemy with your blade!"_

Granted, there were no enemies to speak of, though he often flashed back to the battle with Van at the bottom of the Absorption Gate. His clothes whipped about his body, the air about him whirling with activity. He raised his hands, their fon slots emitting a soft green light.

_"Turbulence!"_

A strong gust of wind striving upward, almost like a geyser. Within moments it subsided, and the satisfaction Luke had just from performing the arte vanished. In a real battle, that fonic arte would have done no more than stun an enemy, not actually damage it. Stubborn, he persevered with the other fonon types--a Flame Burst for Fifth, a Second Stalagmite, a Fourth Blessed Drops, a First Negative Gate, and a Sixth Photon. Since the only high-level fonic arte was the Blessed Drops, he still had energy enough left over to practice his hyperresonance.

If there was someone he could train with, he could practice his healing ability as well as his hyperresonance. If Guy hadn't left ... he shook his head, clenching his fists. Guy had his own life to live. Who was Luke to say what he should do with his life? No more than Van had to say Luke was just replica trash that could never amount to anything close to human.

Luke clenched his fists. Why did he have to think about such depressing things all the time? Just like with Sync, Van was dead. Both his tormentors were dead. There was no point getting all worked up over it. He cleared his mind of those thoughts, concentrating on sensing the Seventh Fonon. It was relatively easy to gather Seventh Fonons up here, since Baticul was probably the closest height to the Planet Storm, where Seventh Fonons traveled that endless stream. The Seventh Fonons in his own body called out for others like them, and slowly but surely, they began coming down from the Planet Storm encircling the globe, funneling into his fon slots.

He put his hands out in front of him, just like when he had commanded passage rings. Just like when he had destroyed Akzeriuth. His hands began to glow, and a small orb of gold materialized between his palms--the source of his miniscule hyperresonance. Yet that tiny orb of power was enough to help save the Outer Lands from collapse, and from the miasma. He didn't need the crazy show of destructive force he had used in Akzeriuth's passage ring. He was good enough with his own power, with his own two hands, bloodstained they may be. When he built up his hyperresonance to the limit of his current ability, he started to gradually release his hold on those fonons, to return to normal.

But the Seventh Fonons did not dissipate. Eyes going wide in horror, Luke's body began to tremble as he remembered the two times his hyperresonance lost control--on the boat en route to Baticul, and then in Malkuth's miner's city. He grunted, struggling to keep his hold on the fonons, to keep them in order, though their interference was making it extremely difficult. It was all he could do to not panic.

"Damn it," He murmured, his head hurting as he tried to keep his power under control. "Why did I ever think--it was okay to practice this thing--in a city!?" Great. If he lost control of this hyperresonance, not only would an entire city be gone, it was the bloody _capital_ of the Kingdom of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear. Splendid.

_Why didn't you think before using your hyperresonance!?_

Maybe Asch was right--maybe replica brains were defective in some way ...

Luke couldn't see anything, not even his own hands in front of his face for the screaming headache he had and the great gold light of the Seventh Fonons that enveloped his body. Why did he ever think--how stupid--how could he ever hope for anything more ...

"Hey! Luke, are you okay!?"

A voice from without. His mind was so hazy, he couldn't tell who it was that spoke to him--Duke Fabre, Ramdas, Pere, or even Suzanne, just some disembodied voice that called out to him. He felt as if he were not of this earth, as if he were returning to where he belonged--as if he had a place to belong. But there was some sort of outward force that Luke's extremely sensitive fon slots perceived, and the blinding light and excruciating headache both were gone. He fell backward on the ground, his vision swimming in and out of focus with his dizziness.

The courtyard was filled with warm, pale sunlight--dawn had broken. Yet there was something before him that blocked that precious light, cast him in shadow. Luke still couldn't see properly, his entire body tingled and his head still throbbed. What had he been doing? His memory was hazy. He was dimly aware of a hand being pressed to his forehead, and his super sensitive fon slots went crazy at the use of a Seventh fonic arte. His head throbbed again, but the pain was slowly ebbing away.

"There, that should do it. Well, Luke? How do you feel?"

Luke blinked, and his vision focused sharply. He gasped when he saw who had been blocking the morning sunlight. Unable to do more than gape and point, his visitor laughed, grabbing his hand to help him to his feet.

"After all this time, you can't even say hello?"

Luke coughed, clearing his throat. "S-sorry. But what are you doing here, Lloyd?"

Lloyd chortled, folding his arms over his chest. "What, I can't come by to say hi?"

"Well, that's fine, but--"

"Actually," Lloyd gave an apologetic look for cutting Luke off midsentence, "The Duke hired me as a resident craftsman. Being a Seventh Fonist, a swordsman, and having helped you on your journey was a definite bonus to my resume."

"W-wow!" Luke's jaw dropped. "And I was just thinking it'd be nice to have someone to spar with." His brow furrowed, he had a bent frown. "But, don't you have a home to go to?"

Lloyd nodded. "I do. It's just--my dad was telling me he didn't raise a second-rate craftsman. He wants me to build a good base of customers before I go back home."

Luke tilted his head to one side. "Really? Your dad sounds like an interesting person."

"But never mind me," Lloyd said, brow knit together worriedly. "Are you all right? It's not like you to lose control of such a small hyperresonance like that."

Luke sighed, looking at his empty hands. The hands that almost destroyed Baticul had Lloyd not intervened, though how the brunette stopped the hyperresonance was beyond him. "I ... don't know. I guess I've been a little on edge lately."

"Well, that's understandable. You are adjusting to your new life and all."

"As if I deserve it," Luke muttered darkly, and Lloyd glared at him.

"Of course you deserve it! No one's worked harder than you to save this world!"

"Either way," Luke said firmly, "I stole Asch's place. I can't ever really be at peace until he comes back."

"To what, force you out?" Lloyd retorted. Luke shook his head.

"If Asch ever came back, it'd be for Natalia, to become king of this country alongside her as queen. I guess ..." He clenched a fist, unable to say the words. His Fabre pride refused to let him say aloud that he wanted Asch's approval, that it was okay for him to be here, in this manor, in this family.

A sudden thought came to Luke. He looked up at Lloyd, a smile on his face.

"So _you_ were the surprise Mieu was talking about!"

Lloyd blinked. "R-really? Does nothing escape that cheagle?"

Luke laughed. "Apparently not."

The two spent the rest of the morning catching up, just friendly chattering as the rest of the Fabre household began to rouse. The servants were all stunned, Pere and Ramdas most of all as they observed their usually sullen young master talking so amiably with the new resident craftsman. Ever since Luke had returned to the manor, they had though he had forgotten how to smile, how laugh. And yet this other young man evoked those from him with seemingly no effort despite the efforts of his servants to do the same thing. But it was a valuable lesson.

Even replicas could laugh. Even replicas could smile.


	38. Inspection of Belkend

A/N: Second semester of school has begun. Meh. So my updating might be irregular and this half of the story needs to pick up ... gah.

--

Though Lloyd now lived in Duke Fabre's household as a resident craftsman that could make anything from jewelry to swords and armor, Luke didn't see him as often as he had seen Guy when the Sigmund swordsman had been a servant. Both led busy lives in the manor, and only saw each other in the morning, in the evening, and when they practiced swordsmanship and fonic artes. Natalia had also recommended that both Luke and Lloyd should have formal training for healing artes, as she had. Lloyd was an accomplished healer but unpolished, and in the way of healing Luke had only Guardian Field, a laughingstock compared to real healing artes.

Luke found that before he decided to do something with himself while he lived under Duke Fabre's roof, he had too much time, and now he actually had responsibilities and--dare he say it--expectations, he felt he had too little. If this was the pressure of merely a duke to be, what must it be like to be in Natalia's place as the crown princess, heir to the throne of all Kimlasca-Lanvaldear? An entire nation, a world power, the leading industrial country all looked up to and depended on her as future queen. Next to that Luke felt like an insignificant little nothing. Duke Fabre thought he might be pushing Luke to do better by rubbing his incompetence in his face, but Luke had always been able to do that on his own.

The first time Luke really had time to just sit back and chat with Lloyd was when Duke Fabre sent him to Belkend for an inspection--alone. All other times Luke had gone to Belkend, the current duke had always accompanied him. Being sent to inspect Belkend alone was a relief to Luke, and also a fright--this meant Duke Fabre trusted him, as his son and heir to Duchy, regardless of Luke's personal insecurities of being a replica. The land of Belkend could be easier to harder to manage depending on how one looked at it--the entire city, residents all, were directly under government supervision, no private homes (not in the traditional sense), no children playing in the streets, only fon machinery. The whole city was basically a giant research lab complex.

On the ferry en route to Belkend from Baticul, Luke and Lloyd talked. Luke felt he hadn't much to talk about, just being busy in the whirlwind of activity it took to prepare himself to be duke after his father. Lloyd spoke of some of his clients, they were mostly nobles, so he made things like jewelry for women customers, or maybe some nobleman wanted a decorative sword to hang in his hall. Pere had been an unexpected help in that regard--in addition to being Guy's old sword instructor, he knew his way around a smithy himself. When Lloyd asked Luke if he had heard from any of the others, there was no answering reply.

Luke had gotten no word whatsoever from his companions--his friends. No letters, no visits. They were all probably busy like him--Tear in Yulia City, Guy in Grand Chokmah, Anise in Daath, and Jade in the Malkuth military. With Van gone, there wasn't much to worry about worldwide except for the occasional border skirmish, but with the peace treaty in place those were put down relatively quickly. With the lowering of the land, the true sealing of the miasma underground, Auldrant was a new world. Though there was some questioning of what to do about the Score. Ion had ordered complete halts on all public readings, but still the people clamored for their prophecies. Natalia had said to Luke on her last visit that she wanted to propose a summit on what to do about the Score, to which her father already agreed.

They came to Belkend soon enough, the city as cloudy and grey as it always had been on Luke's prior visits. They went to Governor Viridian's building first, to hear a report from him before Luke would begin a formal inspection. Mostly he and Duke Fabre were concerned with left over data from Van's fomicry research, how much of it remained, and whether or not it was dangerous.

Standing at the table, Luke skimmed over the printed report the governor gave him: all was completely normal on the surface.

"But Governor," Luke said, putting the paper on the table, "something's been bothering me. How did Van get to use the Belkend labs for his research? This is Kimlascan territory."

Governor Viridian had a strained smile. "How, indeed. Dorian General Grants is from Daath, but he requested to borrow the labs under normal procedure. Even the Duke could not question it at the time--if he had refused, Daath would have stopped reading the Score for Kimlasca."

"Ah." Luke said, clicking his tongue. Things like that had happened time and time again in Auldrant's history ever since the three world powers began using the Score as a political tool. He went to the door, where Lloyd waited, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. "I'll be going to inspect the labs now. Is that okay?"

"Absolutely, Master Luke."

"I don't really like this city." Lloyd said as they entered the complex of laboratories.

"Why not?" Luke asked, passing all the fon machine labs--the ones he really wanted were deeper in. "It's not the most likable of cities, but once you get used to it ..."

"It's so ... mechanical. But I guess is that they wouldn't let me come here when I needed a refill on my medicine."

Luke stopped dead in his tracks, instinctively pivoting his foot to go down an alternate corridor, Lloyd abruptly stopping and turning to catch up. "They wouldn't let you get more medicine!? Do you have any left?"

The answer made Luke cringe. "Just one caplet."

"Yulia's Score." Luke swore, and the journey to Dr. Shu's lab could not have been longer.

It was amazing that Lloyd had managed to make his medication last for so long, for when Luke told Dr. Shu that the brunette had the same condition as Tear, the doctor was surprised, for Lloyd had never personally visited this medical facility in Belkend. Luke's gaping jaw was left to catch flies as Dr. Shu ushered Lloyd in the other room, wanting to perform an examination--Lloyd and Tear were opposite genders, and of different body types and weight. Lloyd taking Tear's medicine probably had not been as effective than if there was a dose prescribed particularly for Lloyd.

In the meantime, Luke decided to get on with the inspection. After informing Lloyd and the doctor, he went on to the replica labs.

The office Van had been using and its contents had been seized the moment the Dorian General had vacated it, but the shelves of books had been nothing more than Jade's already published books and papers on the theories of fomicry, nothing that wasn't already public information. Luke knew that the hardcore information would lie in the computer files. He wasn't very tech-savvy before, but in his previous visits to Belkend with Duke Fabre, he made a point to learn about operating computation fontech. That moment when Jade said in Ortion Cavern, "I doubt Luke could have handled something like this," hung heavily.

The first three computer rooms beheld nothing of interest, only records of visits to Ortion Cavern and the mining of fonimin, an ingredient necessary for fomicry of the legal and illegal kind alike. It was the final room with enormous computation fontech that held the kind of red tape data he was seeking in this inspection.

It was mostly fragmented data, as if Van's men had done a half-baked job of cleaning up before they had hurriedly clear off before the Kimlascan army came in to intercept them. Luke couldn't discern much, but it looked to him as if they had built in these labs fomicry machines, and scaled them to impossible sizes, the massive facilities that Van needed to replicate the entire world. But nowhere in the remaining data did the record state where the facilities were built, and where they were when they were finished. Ah, well. If Van's plan died with him, then there wasn't much cause for concern. He moved to irrevocably erase the data, when one fragment caught his eye. It was the newest item in the records. His jaw dropped--they were incomplete, but they were lists of the newest replica data taken from people just before Van's Belkend operations were shut down.

But in the end, he couldn't make sense of it. Jade would know, but was a Malkuth military officer. There was no way he could convince Duke Fabre to let Jade come into Belkend, and he dared not attempt to transport the data outside the lab. Somehow, it would get intercepted sooner or later, and this was dangerous information to be had. People's replica data ... if this got out, there would be more displaced replicas like Luke, orphans with no family, no place to go, no real life to live, not even as replacements as he had.

A jagged frown on his face, he deleted the data.

On his way to the Dr. Shu's medical lab, Lloyd came rushing to meet him, Governor Viridian at his side.

"Did you get your medicine?" Luke asked, brow quirked. Lloyd impatiently nodded.

"Yeah, but listen! Duke Fabre wants you to return to the manor immediately--"

"Did something happen?"

"Yes ... someone stole Van's sword from the manor."

--

A/N: I know it's rushed ... but it's been way past the deadline for this chapter.


	39. Those That Remained

A/N: And we are one chapter away from Operation Stalk Asch All Over Auldrant. Enjoy!

--

Luke was nothing short of absolutely livid on the way back to Baticul from Belkend by ferry ship. The message from his father the duke had been delivered by carrier pidgin--apparently not even Class I or M together could develop a fontech machine that could transmit messages--and it was definitely Duke Fabre's handwriting. Elegant, beautiful curves, not at all like Luke's own untidy chicken scratch.

There was no doubting the truth in the short note--Van's sword, Luke's very own trophy from what may be considered an extension of the Hod War (for Van had made that conflict about Hod, _Hod_ more so than the Score), kept in the manor, had been stolen. That was more disturbing even than the time Luke had discovered his being a replica. For the Fabre manor lay at the very top of the rising Capital of Light, Baticul. The manor was within the shadow of the castle, home of the king, the princess, and all the knights who guarded them. How in Yulia's good name had a thief managed to get to the royal quarter, never mind the manor, much less steal anything from it? And even more disturbing ... he reread the line of his father's message: Van's sword had been stolen.

Van's sword. Why? Certainly it was valuable in its own right, but who had known where the sword was kept? That wasn't exactly public information. The only ones who could have known were Van (who was dead), and Luke's own companions, thought he never told anyone why he took it. None of the others would steal, or want anything with Van's sword--except perhaps Asch. But the original didn't want to come within thirty miles of Baticul. So who had stolen Van's sword, and why?

Once he got home, Luke made sure of one thing. He rushed ahead of Lloyd to get into the entrance hall. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide, fixed on the pillar in the middle of the hall. His father's Duke Fabre's, own trophy of the bloody Hod War still hung on the wall. The blade of the Jewel of Gardios shone a beautiful incandescent blue, like a fonstone made liquid. Guy's family sword was still here in the manor, mounted in the entrance hall. That left more questions than answers.

Van's sword. If it had been a malcontent from the Hod War, surely they'd have taken the Jewel of Gardios as well. Luke gave a frustrated sigh as Lloyd stepped in the doorway. He quirked a brow.

"They took one sword but not another?"

Luke nodded, though airily--LLoyd did not know the significance of the Jewel of Gardios, unless Pere had elected to share, which Luke somewhat doubted. Most servants knew the sword by sight, yet its name to them remained an unknown mystery. In deference more so to Guy rather than Duke Fabre, Luke had never told Lloyd the story of that sword.

Abruptly a jolt like lightning had shuddered through Luke, and he dashed throughout the manor, dodging servants, bursting through doors, and vaulting across the courtyard to his own room, which was isolated from either wing of the magnificent Fabre manor. He slammed the door open so hard, for a brief moment he feared it would fall off its hinges. The moment vanished as his emerald eyes rapidly scanned the room. It was not messy in any way--everything was as he had left it a day prior to his visit to Belkend. His diary still lay open on his desk, still cloaked in its layer of miserable dust. All the textbooks he used in all his studies fonic and otherwise still lay upon his bed, where he left them. The only thing out of order was the expanse of blank space on the wall where Van's sword had been mounted for a month.

The thief had known exactly what he or she wanted, and took no pains to steal anything else of possible value. Not even the Albert style arcane arte texts that Luke had chased all around the world to buy them back from the people the merchant sold them to, and those had been worth a fortune. Even Mieu was undisturbed, slumbering silently on Luke's pillow.

Nonetheless Luke went right to the trunk at the foot of his bed, kicked it open, and did not breathe easily until the soft, silvery glow of the ethereal Vorpal Sword met his eyes. Phew ... so, it was safe, after all, Luke thought as he took it by the hilt, its weight comforting in his left hand. He had left it here in the manor because in Belkend, there would be nothing for him in the ways of fighting, guards to protect him from monsters, fonic artes and intermediate healing artes for himself and others, and to go everywhere as Duke Fabre's heir constantly armed would be unseemly. And Lloyd's sword, which his father had forged for him, was just as important as Van's sword along with the Jewel of Gardios. If Vorpal had been taken as well, Luke wouldn't have know how to face Lloyd, his longtime friend and ally.

He belted Vorpal to his waist, scabbard and all; since the manor had been broken into, he could depend only on himself for protection. The feeling of the weapon at his back was a strange but welcome one after a month of walking about unarmed. Luke left his room, intending to go to the castle and find Natalia, to tell her what was going on, though there was fair chance that she already knew it by now. He wondered what she thought of this.

In the hallway before the drawing room, Luke encountered Ramdas holding a sheaf of sealed envelopes and looking as if he hadn't the foggiest clue what to do with it.

"Ramdas?" Luke asked, startling the servant. "What's up?"

"Ah, Young Master," Ramdas gasped his surprise. He shifted uneasily, until at last he met those Fabre green eyes. "Some ... letters have come, addressed to you. But DUke Fabre wanted only for you to associate with the proper people as befit the heir to the Duchy--" With a small laugh Luke cut him off.

"If I am the heir to the Duchy, then I am the future Duke--give me those letters."

Ramdas still looked uncertain, but at last he relinquished sheaf of envelopes. Delight glimmered in Luke's face as he saw from whom the letters had come, Tear's name first among them. They were letters--from his friends! With a giddy feeling of happiness within him, he returned to the entrance hall, calling out to Lloyd.

"Hey, Lloyd, I got letters from--" suddenly he fell silent, halting by the pillar where the Jewel of Gardios lay mounted. Lloyd stood before the front door, his back to Luke, chatting rather amiably and animatedly with a tall stranger, presumably a visitor.

The stranger had lily fair skin, touched by the sun, Rem's slight kiss, long wavy hair of radiant red, though not Fabre dark, and clear blue eyes like the sea. The visitor wore an overcoat of what could politely be called pale red, gloves to match, white pants and shoes. A short sword was belted to the waist. Luke double-checked to make sure the visitor was in fact a young man (and was, due to the lack of obvious, soft bosom under the low-collared black shirt), and his eyes lingered upon a gold ornament adorned with a red jewel resting just above the stranger's collarbone. It looked almost familiar--his eyes darted to Lloyd's left hand, on his Dawn Age-esque capacity core. Did he imagine the similarity? Curious, he crept closer to the two young men conversing by the door.

"--okio's customs aren't all that different." The redhead spoke, his voice obviously that of a male's. He folded his arms, grinning at Lloyd. "So how come you're hanging around here? Not like you'd want to be a servant in _my_ manor." Lloyd laughed, the brightest, most genuine smile on his face that Luke had ever seen.

"Duke Fabre's kinda scary ... but other than that, it's solid work."

"Yeah! Healer, swordsman, and resident craftsman! Dirk would be proud."

"Nah, I'm still wet behind the ears compared to him ..."

The complete ease and familiarity with which they spoke to one another, sharing knowing grins and laughter ... could this be one of Lloyd's friends? As if sensing the thought, the red-haired stranger's azure eyes flickered over to where Luke stood. Finally, Lloyd turned and saw Luke there, slightly startled.

"Luke!" Lloyd greeted him with a smile. "This is Zelos. I told you about him on the Albiore, remember?" Zelos stepped down from the doorway, shaking hands with Luke.

"Luke fon Fabre." He said tonelessly, looking into those blue eyes a little more coldly than he meant to. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Zelos Wilder." Zelos replied, flashing a winning smile. The grace with which he moved, the way he carried himself, that regal bearing. Obviously Zelos was in fact a noble, and a Kimlascan at that, even related--however distantly--to the royal family, as if the shining red hair weren't any indication.

"I don't recall any noble families with the name Wilder in Kimlasca's dossiers." Luke said slowly, carefully. As future Duke and tertiary heir to the throne, an aspect of his studies had been to examining the family trees of Kimlasca's nobles, as well as those related to the royal family. He didn't know it as well as Natalia did, but he knew it well enough. Zelos's smile only grew wider.

"Oh, it's there. You're just not looking hard enough."

Lloyd smiled apologetically. "He's an orphan, so--"

"Hey, hey, easy, Bud." Zelos said. "I have a half-sister!" This he said almost indignantly.

Luke shrugged it off for now, making a mental note to check the royal records later in the castle library. No green eyes, but red hair ... Next to Luke, that put Zelos closer to the throne than Natalia. Was Zelos ambitious? He seemed quite airy and lighthearted, but as he had learned quite harshly from Van, the outer seeming not always matched the inner.

"So, Master Wilder," Luke began, the formality sour on his tongue, "what brings you to the home of my father, His Grace Duke Fabre?" It went unsaid, but obviously this had not the look of a formal noble's visit. Zelos clapped a hand on Lloyd's shoulder, that wide grin still plastered on his face.

"Just catching up with my Bud here. It's been ages; we're old friends."

"Old friends?" He looked to Lloyd, confused. "I didn't know you knew nobles in Baticul besides me."

Or nobles of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear's royal line, his mind finished, but quite scathingly. Indeed this young man was just bursting with surprises.

"Well," Zelos said in Lloyd's place, "I wasn't raised in Baticul. This is my first time here, actually."

Now that Luke could believe--Emperor Peony of Malkuth had been raised in Keterburg, not Grand Chokmah. Such sending away of noble's children to be fostered was common practice. And it made more sense as Luke looked on at Zelos's bright red hair again--if he were of the Lanvaldear royal line, none could plot against him if he were hidden from court.

In any case, Luke reminded himself firmly (perhaps he was growing too fond of political intrigue), King Ingobert had named Natalia his heir. None could contest the word of the king himself without inciting rebellion. With Daath and Malkuth looming like a tidal wave, not even the most foolhardy noble would risk that.

"So what's up, Luke?" Lloyd asked, and Luke remembered. Grinning triumphantly, he held up the envelopes--three in all.

"Letters from our buddies on our journey together."

"Really? From who?"

Luke leafed through them. "Tear, Anise, and ..." Here his voice faltered, as if he were shocked. " ... Guy." There were no letters from Asch, and Luke didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Lloyd quirked a brow.

"None from Jade?"

At that, Luke almost laughed. The Colonel didn't strike him as the type to write a friendly letter to anyone, except perhaps Nephry. He shook his head, no.

"Jade wouldn't write even if he was the type. He's a Malkuth military officer. It'd be suspicious."

"But it's okay for Guy to write?" Lloyd persisted.

"Guy's a nobleman--regardless of nationality, all nobles fraternize all the time." As he spoke, Luke found it hard to imagine Guy as a nobleman.

"Well," Zelos said. Luke wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but it seemed to him that Zelos didn't like being ignored. The taller redhead continued, "You guys are busy; I'll shove off now. Lloyd, you'll know where to find me if you need me." With that last farewell, Zelos Wilder left the Fabre manor.

Luke had stared after the mysterious noble that might well be a distant relation to the Kimlasca-Lanvaldear royal family, but at Lloyd's question he came to.

"Did you read the letters yet?"

"No ..." Luke plucked out Tear's letter first. With the lowering of the land, Yulia City was in chaos, and then there was something Tear wrote about the Planet Storm steadily growing stronger. That disturbed Luke as the written words left his lips, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Granted, it shouldn't. A stronger, more active Planet Storm meant for more fonons for fonists in Malkuth, for fontech in Kimlasca. That'd be a good thing for all concerned.

For some reason, it bothered him, but he shook it off and read Anise's letter aloud next. Daath was doing only marginally better than Yulia City in terms of the chaos Van's revolt and Ion's order to halt all public and personal Score readings had left. Ion, the same frail Ion continuously being kidnapped by the God-Generals and kept fainting after every use of a Daathic fonic arte, was taking a firm hand in the Order of Lorelei that was his by right. Grand Maestro Mohs had been relieved of his position and was to be put on trial.

Daath's military wing seemed to be severely lacking ever since Van won over for all intents and purposes the entire organization of Oracle Knights. Luke had a sudden thought--perhaps Tear could rebuild the Oracle Knights. She was trained by a God-General, she was a descendant of Yulia, a melodist, a Seventh Fonist, and was loyal to the Fon Master, though he wasn't sure if being Van's sister would score her any points with the rebuilt Oracle Knights. Maybe, maybe not. It was a marvelous idea (one of the best Luke had ever come up with, he mused proudly), but in the end the choice was Tear's to make. And yet he wasn't so sure if she would refuse.

Then, there was the last letter, Guy's letter. Would it contain harsh, bitter words meant for the family whose father and son slew Guy's own countrymen? That the Fabres were destined to exterminate those that remained of the massacre of the Hod War? With shaking fingers he opened the envelope, unfolded the sheaf of paper. To his immense surprise and relief, the neat, graceful hand of Count Gardios bore no hint of bitterness or malice. Just the friend he had always known, had always been able to depend on. Hod had sunk into the sea (actually, the Qliphoth), so Guy lived in Grand Chokmah, with a manor of his own, and started a new life.

The letter was pleasant, and nor did Guy ask after the Jewel of Gardios, or even Pere, who he had left behind. Guy had always been honorable. Reading the letter almost brought tears to his eyes, that Guy, as much right as he had, did not hate him. Then, thinking on the theft of Van's sword, he thought, replica or no, the Fabre blood in him ran true, his hair stained crimson, dark with the blood of his enemies, his victims whom he had slain ... he would become his father in this way. Only he had lost the trophy that marked the man he had slain.

His eyes lingered on the pillar where the Jewel of Gardios rested, then, on a blur of deep red in the background, and for a moment his heart fluttered--but w hen his vision focused, he saw the form of his mother by the doorway with a smile on her face.

"M-Mother." Luke said, a faint blush coming over his face, that his mother, Duchess, Princess, and maybe even Queen, should hear her royal son read aloud letters from common girls and a noble of a family enemy! But Suzanne only smiled, would have only smiles, for her son, even if he was not the one she had carried and borne. At Luke's crestfallen face, she said softly,

"You are weary of court life, so tired of all this, preparing to be Duke after your father. Why don't you go and see your friends? The change of pace, the break will do you immense good." Only here did that radiant smile of hers fade ever so slightly. "Just promise me," her royal green eyes pleaded with a mother's longing for a much-loved child, "promise me you'll come back someday."

Luke could not hold back the gleeful half-chortle. " ... It's okay for me to come back?"

"Of course. You are my son, and of this family."

Suzanne's son, Luke thought, not Duke Fabre's.

"Can I come with you, then?" Behind Luke, Lloyd finally spoke after all his silence, listening first to Luke reading the letters aloud, then to the conversation between mother and son. The redhead suppressed a laugh. Like himself, Lloyd was not one for idleness in manor walls. Lloyd was active, longed for travel. Like he was going to say no!

"Yeah. Let's go visit our friends."


	40. Downhearted

A/N: There is an explanation as to how Zelos made the jump ... but it's not mentioned until the very end, near Eldrant. So if you don't wanna wait that long, you can ask me for that particular spoiler.

--

Luke wouldn't ever admit it aloud within earshot of the servants or any other nobility (particularly Duke Fabre), but as he and Lloyd boarded the ferry headed for Sheridan, he was practically giddy with the excitement of visiting his companions from their journey together. In fact, he had trouble sitting still in the cabin, so he and Lloyd decided to use that time wisely. The sun shone strongly, and there was a pleasant sea breeze, so the two swordsman went up on deck and sparred.

If there weren't other people on deck watching them, they might have gone all out. Fields of fonons were not out of the question, though they did use weaker ones, more for show and the amusement of their steadily growing crowd than for anything else. The fighting was fierce, fast, acrobatic as they dodged one another, sword hitting sword, sparks flying, both muttering Seventh fon verses if they managed to scrape one another. Lloyd left himself open, using two swords, but he knew how to use them well, using one sword to block, the other to attack, jumping and rolling. Luke had a hard time before, but he was getting used to his friend's unique fighting style, so it was no pain to sidestep the one sword and use a field of fonons (Frigid Blast) to get past the defending blade. If they had been alone, he wondered if Lloyd would have used those wings of his--though he didn't know if Lloyd had devised a way for his style to work in midair--but it turned out Lloyd didn't need his wings.

Luke scowled at the top of the ship above the deck, his frown turning quickly into a pout. Those in the crowd were hiding their chuckles and giggles behind their hands, and Lloyd gave him a cocky smile, waving. Luke clicked his tongue.

"Cheater!" He said, waving Vorpal with a vengeance. "You know I can't jump up there!" Perhaps it was the type of capacity core Luke used, for all the others--even Anise--had a better time jumping great heights than he did. Guy was the best jumper of them all, managing even to create a springing force of Third Fonons beneath him to _double jump. _Guy's crazy superhuman agility had been a great help in all the fights they fought against strong enemies, like the God-Generals.

"Nope," Lloyd said, one leg dangling over the edge of his seat, that goofy smile still on his face. "And I'm not moving. I'm comfy. The view up here's great, too."

"Coward!" Luke muttered vengefully, jade eyes narrowed. Then, staring up at Lloyd, a smile came to his lips. He couldn't jump up there, but there was another way he could continue their mock battle. He sheathed Vorpal--to trick Lloyd--and moved to the middle of the deck. This was a most welcome opportunity to test his speed in this regard as well, for both of them. He sought out the right fonons with his fon slots, the verse coming to his lips quickly:

_"Howl O raging wind! Turbulence!"_

It would have been more powerful if he said the full verse, and collected more Third Fonons, but it was only a mock battle, so there was no need. Lloyd looked shocked and belatedly scrambled to his feet, just in time for the fonic arte to knock him off his lofty perch. Cursing loudly, he rolled on deck, stopping when the cold blade of Vorpal was at his throat. He scowled up at Luke.

"How is that not cheating?" He asked, pouting as Luke had done just moments before. At that Luke laughed, sheathing his sword.

"Ah, well, maybe I should let you win sometimes. If we went _all_ out, I'd win every time."

"Hey," Lloyd stood, "what's that supposed to mean? Who's to say I wouldn't beat you?"

Luke's smile changed from playful to a sad one. "Hyperresonance." He said quietly, so none in the crowd could hear. Lloyd's face fell.

"Ah, right." That morning in the Fabre manor, Luke had thanked him profusely for helping him to control the immense amount of Seventh Fonons gathered that time. Luke had been saying that if Lloyd hadn't come along, the out of control fonons would have resulted in a hyperresonance powerful enough to destroy much of, if not the entire, city of Baticul. That kind of power was certainly frightening. Though ... the power he would hold once he regained his father's sword was comparable. But he said nothing of it to Luke. There was no need to tell him, just for now. Not yet.

It took the two, wrapped up in their own thoughts, a few moments to realize they stood on deck alone. The crowd that had watched them spar had left, once it had been apparent that the fighting was done with. Luke felt a little twinge of embarrassment, but it vanished when he looked to the ocean. Port Sheridan was rather close, close enough that they could see the other ships docking and leaving harbor. Then the giddiness returned full force, for the sooner they got to Sheridan, the sooner they could borrow the Albiore, and the sooner they could start visiting their friends the world over.

It was the perfect vacation from the manor, from the stuffy Kimlascan court life. The only thing amiss was the theft of Van's sword. That still bothered Luke a lot, much more than he initially thought it would. When it came down to it, it was just a sword that had been hanging on the wall. For all he knew, the thief was clever enough to get into the manor, and had only enough time to nab the one sword before the White Knights and the Kimlascan knights got wind of the break in. Duke Fabre certainly wasn't one careless with the defense of his manor. As difficult as that was to believe, it was easier still than believing some malcontent of Malkuth had taken it. None from the Oracle Knights, either--their Commandant and God-Generals were dead, missing, or imprisoned.

"Luke." Lloyd's voice broke his thoughts, and he saw Lloyd pointing to the harbor, at which the ship had just docked. Sheridan was a likable city, but of the memory of his last time here--Cantabile and Legretta leading the ambush--he narrowed his eyes, scowling. Lloyd smacked him on the arm, frowning with staunch disapproval.

"Quit brooding and let's go."

Luke sighed but obeyed.

They hadn't stayed long in Sheridan. Ginji agreed to pilot the Albiore III for them, and they had boarded and taken off into the vast skies of Auldrant. Radessia dropped away from them, the huge continent looking considerably smaller in the big maw of the ocean. Well, better the maw of the ocean than the Qliphoth. Luke smirked, glad of the absence of the sea of mud and miasma. The core was quiet. There would be no more liquefaction, no more land sinking into the mantle.

Ginji flew the craft with exceptional deftness, vaulting across the impossibly blue sky, over the expanse of ocean beneath, glittering in the golden sunlight like an azure jewel. Before the long, the blueness of the sea water gave way to a single structure, staying afloat in the water with no land to support it--Luke immediately recognized the shield of Yulia City. Lloyd, however, had never been to the Qliphoth, never seen this city, so he looked with wide eyes as Ginji made to land.

As he did, Ginji called over his shoulder, "I was a little surprised you wanted to go to Yulia City. Made me smile."

Luke quirked a brow, confused. "What, why?" He curled his fists, "If you're gonna crack a joke about me and Tear ..."

"No!" Ginji sounded flustered, "It's just that, before you came to Sheridan, Asch did, and he borrowed the Albiore II, and Noelle to pilot it for him. And Noelle said Asch wanted to go to Yulia City."

"What, Asch?" Luke gripped the edge of his seat, his heart hammering. He'd heard nothing of Asch ever since they went their separate ways, he to Baticul, the surly God-General to Yulia knew where. "How long ago was that?"

The answer made his heart sink. "A month. Noelle still isn't back yet, so I guess he's still traveling around."

"Oh." Luke never even tried to hide the fact he sounded dejected. It was true, he had hoped that if for no one else, Asch would return to Baticul for Natalia. They had seemed awfully close of late, and Natalia had been looking happy ... he thought that meant Asch had decided to return to his hometown.

"But what's Asch doing?" Lloyd asked, cupping his chin thoughtfully. "Van's gone. There's no reason for him to be doing this. I thought he'd just go back to Daath."

"Maybe ... maybe he's looking for Kratos and Cantabile." Luke said, thinking back on the Absorption Gate, how Kratos had fled--and Asch had confirmed that Cantabile went with him. Theoretically, there was nowhere for two disenfranchised God-Generals to go--they couldn't return to Daath, nor anywhere in Kimlasca, Malkuth, or even Chesedonia. The best they could do was hide somewhere in some obscure place, maybe in the wilderness. But after the beating Kratos and Cantabile had taken, living in the wilds didn't seem like a good idea. Luke growled, shaking his head. He just didn't know. What good was it to brood over it?

It was strange to see Yulia City so full of sunlight. He'd only ever seen the light of the spotlights emitted from the city. It had been so dark, stuck in the miasma like that. But it was really beautiful now, full of natural light. Luke had a skip in his step, humming a tune to himself as he and Lloyd walked into the city.

Lloyd was amazed. His jaw was slack, his eyes just as wide as he turned around, looking all over. Luke didn't have very good memories of this place, where he had found out about being a replica, fought with Asch ... and ended up in Tear's bed and Asch's consciousness for umpteenth days. Nonetheless that didn't stop him from liking the city. Guy had had an almost unhealthy partiality to this place, for its Dawn Age fon machinery. Luke laughed as he led Lloyd to Tear's room.

"Hello? Tear?" Luke called as he entered, opening the door slowly. Tear wasn't on the first floor. Lloyd in tow, he crept upstairs, hoping he wouldn't catch the melodist at a bad time. But she wasn't in her bedroom, either. Luke pouted, thinking that she might not even be in her room, when Lloyd said softly, "Look," and pointed to the window.

Luke went up to the window, and had a flash of deja vu as he pressed his palm flat against the window pane. Outside, in the selenia garden, stood Tear, just as she had all that time ago, after Akzeriuth was destroyed. He shook his head to clear it of the unpleasant memory, going out into the garden. He didn't notice, but Lloyd didn't follow him. Instead, the brunette had a small, almost sad, smile on his face, leaning in the doorway, arms folded much like Guy did, watching from afar.

Up close, Luke saw what Tear had been doing. Her hands were clasped, and she looked on silently at a small, dark stone in the middle of the selenias. Looking at it, Luke had a feeling he knew what it was. He knelt, and bowed his head, focusing his thoughts on the stone. A few moments of silence later, Tear turned to him.

" ... Thank you, for praying at Van's grave."

Luke almost grimaced as he stood. Did Tear make her own grave for Van when Luke had refused to leave Van's sword as such a token at the bottom of the Absorption Gate? But he didn't say anything on the subject. Instead, he said,

"I got your letter. Thanks for writing."

Tear smiled. "I'm glad, though you didn't write back ..."

Luke laughed openly at that. "I couldn't. Ramdas had been keeping the letters secret from me on purpose."

That coaxed a small smile from Tear. "So, how have you been?"

Luke's face fell. He put his hands on his hips, thinking. "Well, I can't honestly say it's been all that great. I'm actually doing something--preparing to be future Duke as heir to the Duchy--but only my mother, Ramdas, Mieu, and Pere even treat me like I'm human. The other servants and Father ... it's an uncomfortable home, to say the least."

His surprise showed on his face as he felt Tear's hand on his arm. He turned, looking into her one visible turquoise eye. Her voice was soft.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine. As long as you have Natalia, your mother, and the others, everyone in your house will see you're not so different from them. What was it you said to Guy? 'I may be a replica ...' "

Luke smiled. " 'But I'm still a Fabre.' "

-

Lloyd watched the two from his place in the doorway of the garden, arms folded, a contented look on his face. He didn't feel like he should interrupt them. Watching them, he felt a terrible pang of homesickness, made stronger by the fact he had spoken with none other than Zelos before he had left the manor with Luke. He had a pretty good idea of how Zelos got there ... but not even he would be able to return home until Lloyd found the sword again. Just went to show, Lloyd thought with a chortle, how Zelos had come to value him as a friend. He didn't doubt the others would come if they could, but most of them had their own responsibilities at home.

They had to have faith in Lloyd, and Zelos. That all three of them would return home safely. Lloyd would like to go home someday. But as he watched Luke and Tear talking, his smile vanished into a frown. The thing was ... after he went home, he wouldn't see Luke and the others ever again. He didn't want to say goodbye. Not yet. Not yet.

His eyes flickered back to watching Tear and Luke talking in the selenia garden. Luke had slipped his fingers under the collar of his blue coat, hooking something on his fingers, and over his neck he pulled the chain of the blue star sapphire pendant Tear had given him a month ago. Holding it in his palms, it reflected the sunlight, and Luke held it out to Tear. She looked at the pendant fondly--for it was a memento of her late mother whom she had never known--but she shook her head, taking the pendant and placing it back on Luke's neck. Where she thought it belonged.

Luke was about to protest, but looking Tear in the eye, his shoulders slumped. He knew his determination was meek and pliable compared the tempered will of steel Tear had cultivated as an Oracle Knight under Legretta's tutelage. And he shouldn't have been surprised, really. Tear was Van's sister. Unbreakable determination must have run in their family.

"You're doing very well where you are, Luke." Tear said, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them. "You're not still beating yourself up over being a replica, are you?"

A small smile twinged at Luke's lips. "Well ... I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any lingering feelings about it. Asch didn't come back ... before I'd have thought myself lost, but it's because Asch didn't come back that ... it means he trusts me enough with the role he used to have in life. He trusts me to uphold his name, and live that life. I'd be slandering him and his trust if I had just moped around whining about being a replica. That's something ... I can't really change."

Tear's eyes widened in surprise. "You've grown." She said, looking at Luke with a newfound respect. Luke laughed.

"If I have, it's because of Lloyd. He taught me ... that it doesn't matter how you were brought into the world. We didn't choose how to end up into the world. Now that we're here ... we have to make the most of it. And I don't worry about Asch not being there because he must have something important to do, more important than his promise to Natalia."

At that Tear said nothing to contradict Luke's words of Asch--Asch loved Natalia. It must be a very important quest to him if it meant he would forgo returning to her side, once it became clear that not one person minded if he so chose. Being close to Natalia once more ... the ice encrusted about his heart had begun to thaw. Tear had a small giggle; she had been just as cold, if not colder, when she had just first met everyone. Though being a soldier required her mindset to have a certain degree of coldness. It need not be so extreme when she was around friends.

"So, how are you doing?" Luke asked, bringing Tear out of her thoughts.

"If you're talking about the miasma, I'm fine. I was just going to Daath to submit a report to Fon Master Ion."

Luke frowned, brow knit together. "About the Planet Storm getting stronger?"

Tear nodded. "Yes."

"Is it so bad that the Storm's stronger?" Luke asked, his head tilted to one side.

Tear was inwardly surprised that Luke would ask that. She held her tongue in that regard and explained anyway. "Yes. If the Planet Storm gets much stronger, the Tartarus in the core will be destroyed, the core will start vibrating again, and the crust will liquefy. The land would sink into the mantle."

Muttering a curse, Luke hit his forehead with an open palm. "Oh, damnit, how could I forget about that? That was an important part of our journey!"

"It's okay, Luke, you weren't there at the time."

"Yeah ... but I still feel pretty dumb." He folded his arms, looking out the window of the selenia garden. "Anyway, if you're going to Daath, Lloyd and I will come with you. That way, we can see Ion and Anise. And ..." He turned, looking Tear straight in the eye. His voice was slow, grim. "Back at the manor ... someone stole Van's sword."

Tear's brow knit together, confused. Her lips parted, and her voice was barely audible. "... What? Why?"

Luke shrugged, turning on his heel as he walked back inside.

"I don't know. That's what I'm hoping to find out along the way."

--

It would have been convenient to use the Yulia Road, but that fonic glyph no longer functioned because there was no Sephiroth Tree raising the land, no stream of memory particles to follow. So Luke, Lloyd, and Tear headed to the Albiore and Ginji set the course for Daath. Padamiya wasn't far from Yulia City, anyway, so it was no real trouble. Luke sat by the window, watching the world fly beneath them, while in the seat behind him sat Lloyd and Tear. This was the first time those two could talk in a long while. They had just finished discussing their twin conditions of miasma toxicosis.

"--and then Luke took me to Dr. Shu to get another bottle."

"But they didn't let you go in before? That's horrible."

"Yeah, and Luke said he'd talk to Duke Fabre about that when we got back to the manor."

"I didn't think you'd go to work in the Fabre household. Don't you have a home?" Tear felt like she was prying to ask, but she couldn't help it. Even Guy had left the household and went back to Malkuth, started a new life. She knew Lloyd and Luke had become good friends, but ...

"Yeah, I do," Lloyd began cheerfully enough, "but my dad's a craftsman. He'd want me to get my name as a craftsman out there. And he keeps saying my work's worse than second rate." He scowled, but it was not a bitter one. Whoever his father was, he must have a really good relationship with him to not be hurt at such an admonishment.

"And ..." Lloyd's tone grew less than cheerful, it sounded more like he shouldered the burden of the whole of Auldrant. "I can't go back, not until I reclaim my father's sword."

"Ah." Tear said, remembering with full force the reason Lloyd had joined Luke in the first place--to help Luke meant fighting the God-Generals, one of which had his father's sword. And had it still, for Kratos had escaped the confrontation alive. She knew the importance of the sword--she had been shocked and brimming on flaming fury when she heard of the theft of her brother's--but she would have thought Lloyd, who helped Luke to grow so much, would have moved on. Yet it seemed there were things even Lloyd couldn't let go.

--

Luke had to make an effort to stop his heart clenching painfully when he set foot into the great city of Daath, to stop feeling as if those great buttresses of the cathedral were going to bear down on him and swallow him whole. Sure, he'd never had very many good memories of Daath, but that was no reason to believe the city itself wasn't a nice place. He thought he had gotten past being eaten away by those nightmares of being trapped under the cathedral, tortured and neglected ... Sync's cold, cruel, maniacal laugh as each of the pummeling strikes laced with Third Fonons seared at his flesh ...

"Luke, did you hear me?" Tear's voice snapped him back to the present, on Daath's main street that led straight to the towering cathedral. She pointed to the monument in the middle of the path, where people had gathered around. "I said, Anise is over there. Let's go see who wins the bet." She had an unusual grin on her face.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw Lloyd with a confused expression on his face--Tear was not one to gamble. Nonetheless Luke shoved the unpleasant memories out of his mind as fast as he could, leading their small party along the path up to the monument.

Anise had just finished explaining the monument aloud to the pilgrims. She had a sweet smile on her face as she finished. One of the pilgrims in the front, a young woman, stepped up to her.

"Thanks for the explanation. Here's the sermon fee."

As the Gald changed hands, Luke sent a disapproving look at Anise--and as if she felt it, she looked up straight at Luke, her brown eyes wide.

"Anise, that's not nice," Tear said with a frown as the crowd of pilgrims dispersed. "It's wrong to charge money for sermons."

"Oh, no," Anise groaned, appearing truly distraught. "Can't you let it go just this once? My papa's clumsy with money, and he's in a heap load of debt!"

"That's some story," Luke said, rubbing the back of his head.

"I know! Don't you feel sorry for me?"

But Tear resolutely shook her head. "Find some other way to make money. Don't exploit Yulia's followers."

Anise muttered with a cursing vengeance under her breath as she said, yes, she would return the money, but they had _no idea_ how much trouble she was in, running off to the crowd to find the woman who had paid her for the sermon.

Luke stared after her, turning to address Tear.

"Well, Tear, looks like I won the bet."

"Oh ... that means Mieu's new master is ..."

Luke sighed. "Still me. Damnit, haha."

Lloyd looked incredulously at Luke and Tear. "... You guys bet Mieu? You shouldn't do that! He's not a piece of property!"

But Luke only rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Tear would treat Mieu well. Besides, we couldn't bet money--House Fabre's assets belong to Duke Fabre, not me, and Tear has only so much as a living allowance from the Order of Lorelei. We couldn't bet belongings, either--the one thing I would have bet, she wouldn't let me."

It took the silvery blue glint at Luke's neck as he moved in the sunlight for Lloyd to realize he was talking about the pendant of star sapphire Tear had for all intents and purposes forced on him. Luke still felt guilty about having it, and so far all his attempts at returning it had been blocked by Tear.

Lloyd frowned. Luke should realize the significance--not of the pendant itself, but the fact that Tear had elected to give it to him. Something so important to Tear; that she had given it to Luke meant that, like how Asch trusted him enough to let him take that role as heir to the Duchy, Tear trusted him enough to leave him in the care of the pendant. Substantial or insubstantial, mementos were important ... He clenched his fists at the thought.

As they approached the huge cathedral towering over them, not only Luke but also Lloyd had to fight down the apprehension that gripped them as they got closer. None of the others they'd traveled with had very good memories of Daath, either (Natalia and Ion had been held captive here before), but Luke's and Lloyd's were far more intense. Under this cathedral, Luke had endured unspeakable horrors. Just inside, Lloyd had received a very thorough shock when he discovered whom had been in the keeping of his father's sword.

They hadn't had to wait long before Anise returned from returning the money she'd tricked from an innocent pilgrim.

"Ugh! Even though Ion ordered a halt to all public readings," Anise was saying, looking quite haggard, "people still keep coming to have the Score read!"

Lloyd tilted his head to one side. "Why? Didn't they know that the land being put into the Qliphoth wasn't a part of the Score?"

Anise shook her head, pressing a hand to her temple as if she had a headache. "Nope. That is, they're convinced the land lowering was part of the Closed Score." She heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Not to be pessimistic, but it looks like a complete religious overhaul is pretty much impossible."

"Tell me about it," Lloyd muttered under his breath, memories of home coming back in a rushing flood.

"Say, Anise," Luke began, "do you know where Ion is? Tear has something to report ..."

"Yeah, he's in his room."

Luke had to make a conscious effort not to gasp aloud when they entered Ion's room. Ion was looking better than ever, all smiles and with energy to rival that of his Fon Master Guardian's he greeted them.

"Luke! It's good to see you again!"

And again, as he had in Yulia City, Lloyd only stood in the doorway, watching Luke interact with his friends. Someday, somehow, he knew the inevitable was upon him. When he succeeded in retrieving his father's sword ...

He would have to say goodbye to Luke and his friends.


	41. Murmurs of Lorelei

A/N: Sorry for the uber long wait, everyone! Things have been just a little hectic, but I'm pulling through!

--

Ion hadn't even glanced at the report Tear gave him as she explained virtually everything that piece of paper had written on it. There was only one explanation as to why the Planet Storm's activity was increasing rapidly: something was consuming vast amounts of Seventh Fonons, and to compensate, the Storm was churning out even more Seventh Fonons; it threatened to destroy the Tartarus and liquefy the land again.

"I believe this is happening because ..." Tear began, brow furrowed with worry, "Van's plan might still be alive, even if he's not." Van had been one of Daath's most charismatic people. That he had won an entire army over showed his skill as an orator.

"Besides, there's no war going on." Anise added. "Like the Colonel said, the only peacetime application for that is fomicry. Van was the only one to use such large-scale fomicry."

"This is all very troubling," Ion said, his delicate fingers gripping Tear's report more tightly. "But we don't know the truth. In any case, I have a meeting to go to, so I'll see you off."

Luke wavered mentally. There was something he had wanted to ask Ion--what he would do, if he were in Luke's shoes. He was a replica as well, after all. But Luke also didn't want to impose on him. Leading a theocratic nation was sure to be tough work. Perhaps there was another time they could talk, or Luke could just write. He was getting better at expressing his feelings in writing. At talking, he was still just a little awkward.

"All right. Let's go."

These days, the church wasn't especially crowded. Even though people kept coming to ask for Score readings, the number of those were significantly reduced because no one made multiple trips after being turned away numerous times. Most of the people here were those that worked in the cathedral.

Luke was busy thinking of where and who they would visit next, when they went through the cathedral doors, and his went wide with the sight of a very familiar face. Azure eyes locked with green, and they exclaimed in unison:

"Luke!"

"Guy!"

"What are you doing here?"

Indeed, Guy stood on the threshold of Daath's cathedral, quite literally looking the same as he always had: that same orange vest, the same gloves subtly stained with fontech oil, the same pants, and the very same katana belted to his waist. Even reinstated as a noble, he still looked like a servant.

"That was my line," Guy said, rubbing the back of his head with a small smile, "but I'm actually here on business from Malkuth's House of Lords."

"Right." Luke said, grinning. "In other words, Peony sent you here like the good little servant you are." He felt crude to make such a joke, but it was too funny to pass up.

Guy gave an irritated groan. "Actually, yes. Like I wrote, working for Peony isn't so different from being your servant. Not that's such a bad thing, mind." He looked past Luke, Tear, and Lloyd, to Ion standing beside Anise. "Oh, Ion's with you. That's convenient."

"Was there something I needed to know?" Ion asked, stepping to the front of the small crowd he was with.

"Should we follow formal procedure?"

"No, I'll hear it now."

"Dist broke out."

Eyes went wide in surprise, and Anise squeaked a dis(t)gusted, "What?!"

"But that's not all. He attacked the ship carrying Mohs to his hearing and freed him. The reason we got wind of the breakout so quickly was because Asch had told us before: watch the God-Generals."

"The God-Generals ... does he know where Cantabile and Kratos are?" Luke wondered, half-whispering to himself. His ears perked when Guy spoke again.

"He went to St. Binah, saying something about needing to free Lorelei."

"We already knew Lorelei was trapped." Tear murmured, thinking. "He knows how to free Lorelei?" Freeing Lorelei would help keep Planet Storm activity to a safe level, as it would not keep constantly having to compensate for the "missing" Seventh Fonons.

Guy shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"If he knows something," Luke said, "then I want to go after him." He didn't mention the words Lorelei imparted to him in the Absorption Gate. They were meaningless to him, but apparently Asch understood. He had to find Asch and find out what those words meant. His own lack of knowledge had contributed to Akzeriuth's fall.

Guy's response surprised Luke. "I'll go, too. Emperor Peony also told me to find him."

"Asch sure is a ... unique one." Luke said, smirking. "He can even skip out on an emperor."

"Like he'd get away with that if he were Malkuthian." Lloyd added.

"No, I think he'd get away with that if he were." Guy said sheepishly. "Emperor Peony just lacks that ... authoritative air of an emperor with the power to behead him on the spot."

"Quit joking around, people!" Anise piped up. "If Asch's really that important, we have to go now and catch him and make him tell us what he knows!"

Surprised, Tear asked, "You're coming with us, Anise?"

"If that's okay with the Fon Master?"

Ion quirked a brow. "By yourself? That's unusual."

Before now, Anise had always been at Ion's side, and when she wasn't, did everything in her power to rectify that. The two were practically joined at the hip. Now that Ion was back in Daath, there was an army of Fon Master Guardians to keep him safe, but it wasn't normal for Anise to neglect her duties like this. Anise noticed Luke's wary stare.

"I'm involved in this, too. Even if I didn't operate the passage rings, I still helped save Auldrant, and if something's going to endanger it again, I'm going to help."

"Hah ha!" Guy laughed. "Can't really argue with that."

"Yes, I don't have a problem with that." Ion said, though his face fell at having to do all the work at the Order without Anise by his side.

"So, St. Binah, was it?" Tear said. Met with collective nods from the rest of the group, she and Luke led the march from Daath. Guy was ecstatic at seeing the Albiore again (with apologies to Ginji, of course he was glad to see the Albiore's pilot, too).

--

"Asch might know where Cantabile and Kratos are?" Lloyd asked, brow quirked as he looked to Luke, who sat next to him on the Albiore. Luke shrugged, brow furrowed, confused.

"He did say 'watch the God-Generals' ... maybe he just assumed that they would turn up again and cause trouble once they recovered from the last fight. Man, what a pain. I really don't like having to deal with the God-Generals all the time."

"Me neither, and I only fought them so many times."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get your dad's sword back."

"You couldn't help it! Like you expected him to fly off suddenly!"

"Heh, okay, okay, you win. But I'll get it next time for sure."

-

"Okay, so you've had that capacity core--have you ever thought of using fon slot chambers?" Luke felt slightly silly as he asked this, if only to pass time on the long flight from Daath to St. Binah. With the fonic wings the odd capacity core granted to Lloyd, odds were the dual swordsman didn't need to use fon slot chambers, but one could never be too careful. Lloyd quirked a brow.

"Fon slot what?"

Luke wanted to hit his forehead with a palm, but he did not. He himself had been just as, if not more, ignorant about these things. He understood now why mostly everyone had lost patience with him rather quickly.

"Fon slot chambers. They're little beads you put in your capacity core. They're like extra supplies of fonons you can get at quickly, so they'll strengthen your artes faster than gathering them with your fon slots alone."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"So I take it you don't use any."

"How would I use them if I didn't know what they were?"

"Haha, good point. Okay, I'll give you some of mine. What fonon do you use the most?"

Lloyd had to think about that one for a moment. He shrugged, uncertain.

"I don't really have a favorite fonon type."

"That's fine. You're quick, like Guy, so I'll give you ..." Luke rummaged in his bag, in the zipped pocket with his extra fon slot chambers. "These." He deposited in Lloyd's hands a few glowing green grass chambers.

"Third Fonons." Luke said. "Also, if something happens, like an emergency and you wanna add some punch to your wings, these'll help you get into the air faster."

"Wow, really? Thanks! So how do I put them on?"

"There should be little recesses where you can put them."

"Okay, I got it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"All right, all right."

-

Night had fallen long ago, and everyone had since fallen asleep in their chairs, no matter how uncomfortable sleeping upright in chairs might be. But Luke would get no more rest, as someone shook him awake by the shoulder. He turned to see Lloyd, wide awake, with faint circles under his eyes. He had not been sleeping these last few hours.

"What's up?"

"It's been bugging me--how do fonons gather?"

"Huh? You've been thinking about something like that this whole time?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, aren't you curious? Like elements getting together is all fine and dandy, but my Professor taught me that the little pieces of matter only get together when they're opposites."

Memory jolted in Luke, of Tear teaching him about fonons, which included the specifics of how they could attract and repel. He wondered if he could reiterate the information half as well as Tear had explained it before.

"I think I get you: if two fonons are the same, they should repel." When Lloyd nodded, he continued, "Tear taught me that on a basic level, say atomic, though two fonons are the same element, they have the arrangement of electrons needed for them to bond together."

"Like a magnet?"

"Positive and negative? I guess that's close enough."

"You 'guess'?"

"Hahah. Anyway, you got your answer, right? Go back to sleep, if you were asleep at all."

"Man, you're no fun."

"Whatever. G'night."

"Night. I guess."

Luke chose not to reply as he settled back in his seat, falling asleep again almost immediately.

--

Asch was not in St. Binah. The city's restoration was coming along swimmingly, despite the ugly gashes in the earth running through half the citadel, a living monument to its near destruction by falling into the Qliphoth. But the citizens were not delicate despite having lived a mostly secure life within stone walls. If anything, they sprang right back up, as tenacious as cockroaches.

They sure scurried around like cockroaches, though Luke was not careful to say so as they made their way toward the McGovern building. If anybody would know where Asch went, whether he was still in the city or in its vicinity, it would be the old man and his son. How the elder McGovern's beard could have grown so ridiculously long and thick was a puzzle to Luke. He was sure he wasn't the only one thinking this, sneaking a grin at Lloyd, whose only sign of flabbergasted-ness was in his wide eyes.

"Luke!" McGovern hailed Luke as the party drew near, to their bemusement. "Did you cut your hair again? Oh, wait, were you wearing a wig earlier? What was that nonsense about 'my hair grows fast'? Jade's sarcastic disposition must be rubbing off on you."

There was a fairly long silence. On the one hand, they wanted to double over laughing, but one did not laugh outright before the former Field Marshal of the Imperial Malkuth Forces. In the end, Luke suppressed his laughter and managed to say with a straight face:

"Uh, that man who looks like me--his name is Asch? Do you know where he went?"

"Huh? Are you his twin or something?"

"In a manner of speaking," Tear murmured, arms folded over her chest.

Guy cracked a grin. "Asch would pitch a fit if he heard _that."_

McGovern, oblivious to the allusions to fomicry (perhaps the old man was hard of hearing), went on:

"He went to Shurrey Hill. Something about freeing Lorelei."

"Lorelei, huh?" Luke repeated, frowning. This sounded heavy and serious. "I think we should follow him. What do you guys think?"

"Of course!" Guy said. "His Majesty wants to see Asch, too. As far as Lorelei is concerned this is important stuff. Doing nothing would be a crime."

"All right. We'll follow Asch to Shurrey Hill."


	42. A Sword, a Jewel, and

A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus. My first year of college went down, I get discouraged by a small amount of reviews in the sea of uplifting encouragement, and couldn't even play the original ToA game because it got raped by a friend's PS2 a while ago. I've been rereading this story and all of your guys' wonderful reviews and now I'm left wondering why the hell I even left this alone for so long. Feel free to chew me out for acting like Luke lol.

At first it had just been the discouragment getting me down in a creative slump, then I went and lost the synopsis (still can't find it booo) and then ultimately forgot what I was doing for the Eldrant arc. Then when a few people asked me if I was continuing this, I remembered! I still wish I had that damn synopsis .

--

Ginji had offered to fly them directly to Shurrey Hill, but the group politely declined--thirteen hours it had been, thirteen hours it took to fly from Daath to St. Binah. Ginji had taken short naps with the plane on autopilot, but he needed better rest than that, and it wasn't a bad idea to check out the Albiore for any problems, either. Besides, it had been a while since they had traveled together on foot, even if Jade and Natalia weren't here to share it.

Luke led the way, thinking back on the first him he had been on Rugnica. Back then the God-Generals had had taken Ion to the Daathic seal in Shurrey Hill. He hadn't been to Shurrey Hill since the land had lowered. He doubted it had changed much. It hadn't changed in two thousand years. Why would it start now?

"So, how are you feeling?" Guy asked as he fell into step beside him. "About meeting Asch again."

There was a small smirk on Luke's face.

"C'mon, Guy. You practically raised me--can't you read me like a book?"

Never mind the only books Guy really liked to read were about fontech.

"I could," Guy maintained, "But I'd rather hear it straight from you."

"Fair enough." Luke ceded. "Huh ... I can't really say. I used to be scared that if Asch came back, I'd have no place. But that he hasn't come back must mean there's something more important for him to do. Eventually I took it as Asch trusting me well enough with his role as heir to the Duchy.

"I'm sure that if he comes back, though, Natalia would work something out. I mean, why be a duke when you could be a king?" He paused, quirking a brow at Guy, who looked stunned, but he also looked like he would burst into laughter and smiles at any moment.

Luke stammered, "Wh-what?"

"Damn, you really have changed. Grown. I thought you and Asch would be at odds forever."

"Hmph. I can't speak for Asch, but ..."

"You know what I mean." Guy clapped a hand on Luke's shoulder, laughing. "I'm real proud of you, Luke. Real proud. Sometimes I think I can't keep up with you."

Luke couldn't think of anything to say in response to that, so he kept his gaze forward. They were approaching the distant bluff that marked the location of Shurrey Hill.

-

There was a putrid stench as they approached the opening in Shurrey Hill. This place had been drenched in miasma for a long time, so it wasn't hard for Luke to believe that such a stench would persist even for an entire month. But when they entered the passage ring, they could see the decayed smell was not from the miasma.

"Ugh," Luke said, covering his mouth.

Bodies littered the floor, weaponry scattered, the grey to black mantles of the Oracle Knights torn, ripped, and stained dark with blood. Lloyd grimaced.

"What the hell happened here?"

"Are these Asch's men?" Luke asked. Even though the floor was dark, he could see the dried pools of blood under the strewn bodies of the Oracle Knights.

"No," Anise said, "Asch was removed as Special Operations Commander for breaking Oracle procedure. Besides, all units should be on standby."

Luke stared at the decaying corpses with a deep frown on his face. If these weren't Asch's men ... Tear's hypothesis of Van's plan being alive, even if the man himself were dead, was becoming more and more believable as time passed and these events occurred. Just how powerful was Van, to have so many men remain faithful to him even after he died?

"C'mon," Luke said grimly. "We need to find Asch."

-

The passage ring was filled with monsters, both living and of the fontech variety. As they traveled deeper into the ring, sounds echoed throughout the passageways. Luke strained his ears, trying to hear.

_Snick._

_Clang._

Shock jolted through Luke. It sounded like a battle. Nobody questioned the urgency when Luke broke into a sprint. Instead, they all followed.

The narrow hallway opened up into a large, spacious, round chamber, at the center of which stood the activated passage ring. Golden white memory particles flowed up the Y-shaped fontech in a moving column, like an upward waterfall. Before the ring was none other than Asch, kneeling on the transparent platform, obviously wounded, and clutching a strange looking sword shaped almost like a Yulian tuning fork.

"Hand over the Key of Lorelei!"

All eyes went wide with disbelief at the scene unfolding before them, like a sick sort of play for a disturbed man's amusement. At least if it had been Kratos, or even Cantabile, Luke would have understood, wouldn't have been surprised. Looking almost as rudely healthy as Guy, Legretta the Quick raised her handguns, the soft white glow of Sixth Fonons becoming harsh in her care as she formed the arte.

"_Holy Lance!"_

The glyph splayed underneath Asch, and even wounded, he knew he had sparse moments before the spears of Rem bore down on him. Grunting with the effort, he rolled to the left, toward the new company that would undoubtedly back him up, because they had helped one another out before. Even against someone like the Quick, Asch was not a pushover, although he was nowhere near Van's level of swordsmanship. Legretta must have gotten Asch off guard.

The lances of Sixth Fonons clashed against solid ground and dissipated upon contact, returning to the loose fonons that had composed them. Legretta clicked her tongue. Powerful God-General she was, she couldn't take on five at once and expect to come out unscathed. Never missing a beat in the heat of battle, even at the shock of seeing her instructor alive, Tear murmured a fon verse for a First Aid toward Asch. The glow of healing artes seemingly snapping them back into reality, Lloyd and Guy in unison fired Demon Fangs—which Legretta dodged by leaping backward in the air.

Luke waited. Right before the woman God-General landed, he dashed up to her, slashing in a Fang Blade. Belatedly he realized Asch had joined him. Luke's strike was blocked by the guard of one handgun, but Asch's hand landed, opening a gash in her shoulder. Blood splattered in large droplets on the smooth, frictionless floor. She landed, scowling, pressing a hand to her wound.

"I _will_ take the Key of Lorelei from you!" Then she turned on her heel and fled, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Lloyd made to follow her, but Asch barked, "Let her go. She'll just come after me again on her own anyway. She could easily have laid a trap if anyone pursues her, and that's not something I'll leave to chance."

"Asch, are you all right?" Luke asked, sheathing Vorpal. He would have offered Asch a hand as the original was kneeling again from whatever injuries he had accrued fighting the woman God-General; he'd need a stronger healing arte. But by now Luke knew crimson pride, and he knew Asch wouldn't appreciate it.

"Fine, I'm fine!" Asch protested as Tear began casting a Meditation. She ignored him, of course. Healing the wound was more important.

"Why is she after you?" Guy asked, brow quirked and arms folded in inquiry. But he already knew. All eyes were fixed on the strange weapon in Asch's hand.

"… The Key of Lorelei?" Anise asked, voicing everyone's thoughts aloud.

"That old relic from the legends of Yulia?"

Instantly Lorelei's words came to Luke's mind. Use the key to set Lorelei free … Asch's Key was the same one? But hadn't Lorelei said it would send Luke a key, too? "Is that what Lorelei meant?" Luke asked himself softly.

"But it's incomplete." Asch stood, Tear's healing arte refreshing him, replenishing his strength. He glared at his replica, grabbing his collar and holding the Key's edge to the soft flesh at his neck. The replica froze, identical jade eyes wide with fright, a hand poised to grab Asch's wrist but appearing to have second thoughts as the Key's blade dug into his skin. Not quite deep enough to draw blood. But almost.

"All because," Asch ground out, the fist holding Luke's collar shaking with infathomable rage, "you failed to receive the Jewel! Lorelei is trapped and it needs to be freed! If the God-Generals find the Jewel first, we are right proper _screwed!_ Do you hear me, replica?!"

"Hey!" Lloyd, and belatedly he noticed that Guy, too, involuntarily stepped toward Asch, their own swords still drawn from their tussle with Legretta.

"Yeah, I hear you!" Luke shot back, grabbing at Asch's wrist, the one that held the Sword of Lorelei at his neck. His eyes narrowed as he regarded his original. How dare he! All this time he had known something vitally important to Lorelei, the Seventh Fonon personified, their perfect isofon, and then he turns around and blames Luke for not knowing about the very thing he did! "And it's sure as hell not my fault this time! Lorelei hasn't contacted me since, nor have you! I have no idea what this Jewel even is, except that apparently it's supposed to help free Lorelei, and even then how would we go about doing that?!"

It was amazing watching the exchange between original and replica, both enraged for justified reasons in their eyes. Guy stood there, jaw slack. A month apart, and damn. He'd never have thought Luke possible of saying a single thing against Asch, the replica had always felt that he owed something to the original, for stealing what wasn't his in the first place. But there was Luke, clearly standing up to Asch when he felt the original had it in the wrong.

Luke didn't know what this key was, except it was supposed to help free Lorelei. He hadn't known the key would be split into two parts, that Asch would receive a sword and Luke was to receive a jewel. All Luke knew was that he didn't get anything that day at the Absorption Gate from Lorelei, just its voice in his head and a headache that had him collapsing. And here Asch was getting all hot and bothered that Luke hadn't received this jewel, when he never made the effort to contact Luke in the first place. Now that the younger noble was finally here, the God-General did nothing but vent his own frustration at him.

Guy closed and opened his mouth again, but he had no words. What had caused Luke to change so drastically from the meek, demure replica that felt he had always been indebted to Asch by default to the point he was now freely clashing against him, with no apparent inhibition about what he was? Then it stared him in the face across the way, on the opposite side of the entangled Asch and Luke in their fighting. However reluctant Guy was to admit it, however suspicious the lad's circumstances were, the fact remained …

Luke had changed the way he had because of Lloyd.

The replica wasn't making any progress prying Asch's hands off him, but he glared determinedly in his own eyes, teeth grit together almost to the point of generating sparks.

"You think Lorelei might have shot it out another Sephiroth? Is that why you're out here?"

"What else could it be?! You obviously don't have the damn Jewel, and Lorelei can't—"

"Where is Lorelei trapped? Tell me that!"

Their voices, identical yet so different, reverberated against the hollow halls of the passage ring.

Asch's expression at this point reached a whole new level of rage, something that none that met him before though possible. Almost nose to nose with his replica, he ground out, "Lorelei _told_ you. Try to remember. I'm cleaning up after you as it is!"

Thoroughly sick of his mirror of flesh by now, Asch made to throw Luke off him. As he did, something caught his eye, a small flicker of white gold as Luke's thumb brushed briefly against the hilt of the Sword of Lorelei—but Asch blinked, and it was gone, some much needed distance put between him and Luke. The replica's eyes were downcast, the frown it had deeply bent.

"Well, you know how much easier it would be if you just stop being difficult and let us work together? If Lorelei sent us both pieces of the Key, wouldn't that mean it wanted us to—"

Asch sliced off the rest of the sentence before Luke could even so much as get them on his tongue. "The fact remains we can't work anything out unless we have the Jewel! And you sure as hell don't have it, so if you'll excuse me …" He made to exit the passage ring. He didn't get far before he found the two most annoying things next to his infuriating replica blocking the path.

"Then let's look for it together!" Lloyd insisted, wine red eyes narrowed at the God-General. "You can only do so much by yourself. It'd be safer, too, especially since Legretta's after you." He omitted the fact that if Luke and his companions hadn't come when they had, the Quick would have severely injured if not killed Asch, and taken the Key of Lorelei to boot. Beside Lloyd, Guy inclined his head in agreement. He didn't much trust Lloyd, but there was no denying what he said was true.

"And His Imperial Majesty wants to talk to you."

Asch grimaced. "Don't you get it? There's no time! It's not just Legretta, it's possible all the God-Generals are alive! As long as Lorelei is trapped, the Planet Storm will just continue to get stronger to compensate for the lack of Seventh Fonons in the atmosphere—"

Anise's high pitched shriek of surprise drowned out his next words. "If the Planet Storm gets too strong, the Tartarus will break, and the miasma would come back!" She twisted the ends of her jet back pigtails, eyes screwed up with fright. "Ohhh, that's seriously bad!"

"All the God-Generals?" Tear asked, brow quirked. "Even Sync, who fell in the core?" When Asch didn't answer, she clenched one of her hands into a tight fist. "And if Sync survived, then …" It was also possible that her brother Van had survived as well, ludicrous the thought was. How could anyone survive being thrown into the Planet Storm, and the planet's core itself no less?

A little ways away from Tear, Luke's breath hitched and he felt as if a cold hand had siezed his chest. No … it just wasn't possible. Everything they had worked for, to be undone so quickly, especially when they thought the danger had passed … His mind had hit a rut, echoing over and over at the thought of Van and Sync still alive, still walking the earth. And not just them, the rest of the God-Generals, in addition to Kratos and Cantabile whom they already knew that got away with their lives. The God-Generals, alive, and all working against what they had tried so hard to build on a solid foundation threatened to break at any moment. Like a fragile house of cards they'd deluded themselves into thinking it would stay up.

"And while you all have been doing nothing, the God-Generals have been working to create their replicas! An entire month free of any interferance! I'm the only one that has been doing anything worthwhile, like, oh, I don't know, finding the Yulia-damned Jewel of Lorelei before Van's plan causes any more grief!" Taking advantage of the others' stunned silence, Asch ducked out of the passage ring, not even sparing so much as a glance back at the ones he had cooperated with just a short while ago.

Lloyd made a noise of disgust, scuffing up dirt off the smooth Dawn Age floor. Never had he met anyone so difficult to get along with, let alone work with! Even Yuan had been more willing to work together when he had originally been an enemy.

"Well, that went just wonderfully."

"No kidding." Guy heaved a sigh, rubbing theback of his head as he did when he was frustrated. "We've come up with more questions than answers, and the only one who has those answers just walked out on us."

"Let's go already, then!" Luke demanded, and the others fixed their eyes on him, lips parted in surprise. "I'm not letting him go do something stupid, running off by himself with all the God-Generals on the loose! Especially if he has something so damn important—who the hell does he think he is?!" He sounded angry, but to practiced Luke observers (such as mostly everyone in the same room at the moment), his words rang mostly of despair. All this time, he'd been believing Asch had trusted him with just this much of living the life at the Fabre manor the God-General had left behind. The same God-General had just stormed out on them, raving at his replica's incompetence, his unworthiness of even considering working together because he had failed in so simple a thing.

"Luke …" Guy whispered, watching as his best friend's new identity was dangerously close to crashing in flaming pillars all around him.

Everything they had worked for was in serious jeapordy, and it was _all his fault_ because he couldn't receive the Jewel that Lorelei had chocked up the Absorption Gate. Before anyone could get any words out of their mouths, Luke dashed off after his original, choking on his breath, "I can't—I won't let him get away with this!" Asch's adament silence on the matter was as good as condemning the new world to death.

He couldn't let that happen. He just couldn't!

--

A/N: Luke's character is still similar to his canon one at this point, but instead of just chasing after Asch because he feels as a replica he can't match up to the original, he's actually going to do something about it. He still feels insecure about what he is, and it doesn't help that the one person he wants recognition from keeps putting him down about being one. And, no, this last note is not a cheesy way to artificially bump the word count :D All in all, it's good to be back!


	43. On Struggling Wings

A/N: Huzzah! I'm so glad some of my readers haven't given up on me! I also finished watching the anime the other day. Made me cry (stupid Jade and your stupid face!). The ending episodes could've gone better (they totally skipped the badass Natalia trap and second-order hyperresonance lol whut), but they were still awesomely epic.

--

Asch inwardly cursed himself as he heard the telltale rapid footsteps that betrayed the fact his idiot of a replica was chasing after him. Tear's Meditation had healed the savage wounds Legretta had pounded into him, but he still felt the echo of pain. He wasn't sure if he was the only one who felt this way, but it was always the echo of the agony he'd felt that was always worse than when it was happening. A bitter reminder of how weak even he could be. God-Generals were not weak. God-Generals were resilient, every single one, official title in the Order of Lorelei be damned.

Shurrey Hill was one of the smaller passage rings (right up there with the Meggiora Highlands one being the smallest he knew of), yet it was still a spacious place in its own right. If Asch could just get out of the ring, back to the spot where Noelle had parked the Albiore II, he could that much sooner get back on track to the next Sephiroth, the next place where the Jewel of Lorelei might be. In all honesty he had no idea how Lorelei could have screwed up with the Jewel, as the Absorption and Radiation Gates were closest to the core, where it had bided for the last two thousand years. Granted, he supposed it would have been harder to send the Jewel up through the Absorption Gate, against the current of the Planet Storm. Maybe that was why the dreck hadn't received it; he hadn't caught it before the current swept it away.

But the Planet Storm was only anchored in two of the Sephiroth, which had consequently been the most powerful, the two Gates. If it had been caught in the Planet Storm, it would circle around the world, eventually back to the Absorption Gate, through the core, out the Radiation Gate and back again. But even if it had been caught in the Planet Storm, it would end up in the core at some point, and could be shot out of any of the other Sephiroth though Auldrant's planetary fon slots. With a grimace Asch considered the word as he stepped over the bodies of Legretta's Oracle Knights, just a handful of the entire army Van had stolen. _Any._

Regardless of which rings were still operating, the fon slots of the world were always where they had been ever since the planet first formed. Which meant … it was entirely possible the Jewel could have been shot out one of the Sephiroth that no longer had passage rings, that were no longer accessible. Hod's Sephiroth, for instance, or Akzeriuth's. With the land lowered, there was no more liquefied mantle to sink through. If the Jewel had come out Hod or Akzeriuth's Sephiroth, then it was stuck at an impossible depth under the earth. Unretrievable.

Asch angrily kicked aside a piece of armor that had fallen from one of the dead Oracle Knights in the first room of the Shurrey Hill passage ring, the noise it made as it skidded across the smooth floor echoing about boundlessly. No. He couldn't believe that, hewouldn't believe that! Lorelei wouldn't make a stupid mistake like that. It had deliberately sent the pieces of the key to the only ones who could receive them, its perfect isofons. He had received his piece of the key just fine. So why did his pathetic dreck of a replica _not_ have his piece?

Asch growled as he approached the entrance, the sunlight abruptly cutting through the darkness under the ground. Maybe Lorelei had made one mistake: counting on a damn replica in the first place. Why couldn't Lorelei send both pieces of the key to Asch? He had obviously received the Sword, if Lorelei had sent him the complete key, it would have been free a month ago! Van and Sync would have been definitely dead, the Planet Storm would not be threatening to release the miasma, and Van's plan to destroy the Score by destroying Lorelei would have been impossible with the Seventh sentience unreachable in the fon belt. But no. Lorelei had to make things difficult, as always. In a way it was just like his stupid replica.

His stupid replica, with his stupid friends, stupid, useless, hopeless. He thought of the newest addition to Luke's circle, the brown haired boy called Lloyd. He had insisted that they all work together to find the Jewel of Lorelei. With two Albiores, they would cover each Sephiroth faster, true, but only Asch had the Sword, and only the Sword could tell if the Jewel were close. It would just be a waste of time. The boy's other point about the God-Generals coming after the Sword came to his mind. It was true, Legretta had almost gotten him, but she had only caught him off guard, dammit! He wouldn't be so careless next time! He himself was a God-General; he wouldn't go down easily!

He squinted in the bright sunlight, stepping out from the door to Shurrey Hill. The world outside looked like a scene from a picture book: bright, almost obscenely blue skies, occasional fluffly clouds wafting in the atmosphere, waves of grass bending in the wind like a verdant sea, trees' leaves ruffling to that same breeze, birdsong filling the air. A perfectly normal day in early spring. To everyone else in the world that observed this day, all was well. There was no miasma slowly seeping up from under the earth to engulf them once again, there were no mass replications putting pressure on the Planet Storm, there was nothing wrong at all. He wished that there were nothing wrong. Then he wouldn't be on what could be a wild goose chase, but if he did nothing, the unthinkable would happen.

And the moment he stepped outside of the passage ring, into the warm sunlight, the unthinkable did happen. Asch cursed as he dodged the first strike, berating himself for being what he had just sworn not to be: careless. He had been right not to pursue Legretta right away, but he had been downright stupid for thinking she would just run away without another say, even if she were too injured to fight herself. Crazed, almost manical laughter filled his ears as he fought, to save himself, to save his half of the key. If either he or the key were lost, the whole world was right proper screwed.

Unfortunately, the odds were stacked against him from the very beginning.

-

Luke knew why he had to chase after Asch. He was the only one with any answers in this new predicament, and if he were unwilling to give them, Luke would simply beat them out of him if he had to. If it concerned Lorelei, it concerned every single one of them that had risked everything they had and everything they didn't have to make their reality true. When that foundation was threatened, what right had Asch to deny them vital information, to expect them to know what they had no way of knowing? To just go off and try to solve everything on his own was irresponsible, cowardly, and selfish. Asch was running away, and if Luke didn't stop him, he'd drag the whole world down with him. Before, Luke had thought he'd stolen everything from Asch, and to an extent he did. But it wasn't like he had just decided when he was just born to go up to the manor, with the intention of taking everything away. Asch could have reclaimed it all if he had chosen to do so all those years ago. Asch hadn't just had everything stolen from him, he turned his own back on it.

And Asch was doing it again, turning his back, because Luke had failed in so simple a thing, had failed to receive the Jewel that was needed to complete the Key of Lorelei. Without the Key, the world was doomed, but damn it if Luke was going to just sit back and watch it happen. Asch might try shoulder the world as his burden, his alone, but Luke knew it damn well _wasn't,_ and it was high time he stopped this nonsense, swallowed his pride, and let them help. He'd cooperated once before, why should now be any different, when he would need allies now more than ever?

Luke rushed past every chamber, his surroundings a mere blur of dark violet as he ran. Right now Asch was the single most important person in the world, he wasn't going to let his elusive original slip through his fingers ever again. Ever. The prick owed everyone that much; right now his life didn't belong to him alone, to just cast off and throw away whenever he felt like it. As long as he had half the key, and as long as he was one of Lorelei's perfect isofons, he had to live, no matter the cost. The replica dimly recognized the bodies of the Oracle soldiers he had seen on the way inside, Legretta's men no doubt. The entrance was just a stone's throw away now, and Asch was right outside. He would reach Asch, he would convince him to work together, even if he had to tie him down and beat him with a stick to do it.

But the moment he stepped over the boundary of shadow into sunlight, a searing pain lanced through his head, and he staggered backward, hands flying into his hair as if the pain threatened to break his mind apart and he was holding it intact. The world spun dizzily, so he squeezed his eyes shut, and struggled to stay standing.

_Don't move._

Naturally, Luke tried to move. To his horror, he couldn't move at all. He was stuck where he was, frozen in the arch of the passage ring, slightly hunched over and holding his head. He could still open his eyes and look, but beyond that, he was completely paralyzed. Anger rose, his blood beginning to boil. Lorelei hadn't contacted Luke since a month ago at the Absorption Gate, and only one person would so inconsiderately break down his mental bounadries and take control of his body, or else supend it from him.

_Asch._

He tried to yell, say something, anything, cry for help, but his jaw was locked. He couldn't open his mouth. Asch had used their link between isofons to render him paralyzed, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. He couldn't even cry for help.

'_You _bastard! _Walking out on us by yourself with half the Key of Lorelei was one thing, but _this—'

Luke's mental voice seethed with flaming fury, his body aching as he tried pointlessly to break the hold his original had on him. He would have screamed with rage if he could.

'_I'm your replica, but this is _my _body, and you have no right to screw around with it, dammit!'_

'_Replica,' _Came Asch's voice in his head, but it didn't sound the same as the man himself just a few minutes ago when they had been face to face. _'I didn't have a choice. You'll thank me for this later.'_

'_And why in the flaming hell would I—'_

A deep, exasperated sigh echoed in Luke's mind. Asch sounded … tired. _'I … you were right. Lloyd was right. I should've been more careful; I shouldn't have gone off on my own like I did. I was angry that only I knew anything, but it's also true I didn't tell anyone else about it.'_

Shocked at what his original was telling him, Luke decided to put his anger aside for now—for wouldn't that make him more like the original whose actions he disliked? _'What happened? You weren't as keen to tell any of us jack dirt back there.' _What happened to make Asch do the very thing he was unwilling to do?

A deep sigh, flavored with that same crimson pride. _'Legretta did set up a trap, even though she's not fighting. The other God-Generals are waiting just outside the passage ring. They set a fonic glyph in the path ahead, and they're gonna activate the arte whenever one of you step on it.'_

'_The God-Generals attacked you?'_

'… _Yes.'_

'_Where are you? Is the Sword safe?' _Luke couldn't resist a snide, _'Without the key, we are right proper _screwed.'

'_Tch. Yes and no.'_

'_What's that supposed to mean?'_

Luke could feel Asch considering. How was he supposed to say it? _'They tried to take the Sword from me, and even though Tear healed me, I was still weak from fighting Legretta. They would have taken it, except …'_

If Luke weren't entirely immobilized he would have quirked an eyebrow in question. _'Except what?'_

'_Y'know how Jade keeps his spear in his body? And forms it together?'_

'_Yeah?'_

'_I … kinda did that with the Sword.'_

Luke honestly didn't see what the problem was. If Asch had taken the Sword's fonons into his own body, it was safe, nothing could get it. So why did Asch talk like it was bad news? _'So? They can't get it, right?'_

'_No, they can't. But they have my body.'_

'… _What?!' _Luke snarled, his anger returning full force. It swirled around his mind, around the thing in his head that now recognized as Asch's collective consciousness, just as he had taken residence in a part of Asch's mind after Akzeriuth. Right now Asch flinched at the pure, unadulterated fury whirling around his presence like a maelstrom. He was almost … afraid. Luke supposed it would be a harrowing thing to experience the entire feeling of the one whose body he shared. But he didn't feel sorry for him.

Luke demanded, _'Well that's just great, they as good as have the Sword! They could kill you and we'd have nothing to free Lorelei with! I might not have received the Jewel, but you lost the piece you did get. Tch. Despicable, especially after your little speech back there.'_

Be it far from Asch to turn meek. He raged back, _'They can't get the Sword, only I can reform it properly as I'm the one who took it apart and within me. They don't know the lay of its fonons, and if they tried, they'd lose it forever.'_

The replica paused. _'Why do they want the Key so badly? I thought they'd destroy it so nothing can free Lorelei.'_

'… _Do you really not remember what Lorelei said to you?'_

'_I do!' _Luke shot back, getting thoroughly sick and tired of Asch's holier than thou attitude. _'I'll send you the key, save me. And something about "one who would sieze glory" trying to capture it.'_

'_Ugh.' _If Asch had a physical body besides the one he was possessing and paralyzing, he would have pinched the bridge of his nose. _'Weren't you studying Ancient Ispanian?'_

'_A little bit, but there was never enough time for me to get fluent enough to command the rings with it.'_

'_Well, that explains it. Those idiots at the manor probably never taught you anything more than what you needed to know for daily life.' _It went unspoken, but the reason Luke's tutors didn't teach him any more than that was because the Score foretold his death, and since he supposedly regressed to a child like state younger than ten, there was no way he would catch up to the point he had before he was kidnapped. So they raised him to be nothing more than a lamb for the slaughter.

'_So what does it mean? Since you feel like talking and all.'_

'_One Who Would Sieze Glory is Vandesdelca in Ancient Ispanian.'_

'_Van!? Van's the one trapping Lorelei? But … how …'_

'_I don't really know either! Wasn't he at the Absorption Gate with your group?'_

Realization dawned on Luke. _'Yeah. But he … fell into the core.'_

'_Tch. Figures. That _is _where Lorelei was.'_

'_But how could he trap Lorelei? Jade said he'd merge with the Planet Storm.'_

'_And he would have. But Lorelei is the sentience of the fonon that heals. He probably used that to survive, though I don't envy him for having to fight for it.'_

'_So what does that have to do with them wanting the Key? They wouldn't want to free Lorelei, not if Van has it inside him.'_

'_They … must want it so Van won't disintegrate. With the complete Key Van would have total control of the Seventh Fonon, Lorelei included.'_

'_Well, damn. Where's your body? Where are the God-Generals keeping it?'_

Asch was a little hesitant in answering. _'I don't really … know. I was fighting, but I knew I couldn't win, so I took the Sword's fonons into myself and next thing I know, I'm in here.' _He couldn't quite bring himself to put into words how exactly he had felt after he contaminated himself with the Sword of Lorelei. As he had been on the verge of losing consciousness, his last thought had been wishing for two things: to be somewhere else, somewhere safe, and for his idiot replica not to fall in the same trap. The same ambush.

Thus he found himself in Luke's head and keeping him from moving. The link between isofons was a strange thing, and the fact it was the link between Lorelei's isofons made it stranger.

'_Well, on the bright side, they can't get to the Sword with you unconscious,' _Luke ceded, however reluctantly. Actually, Asch had done much better than anyone else could have considering the circumstances. _'The God-Generals probably have it somewhere. If they're still waiting for the rest of us to come out, they'll have it nearby.' _Depending on how many God-Generals were there, at least one would be set with the task of guarding Asch's body. How long they would wait was something else altogether. Van's subordinates were not known for their indifference. If their quarry wouldn't come out, they would go to it.

Speaking of which, Luke tried moving again, and found himself _still _immobilized. He growled in his head, and with a small touch of satisfaction he felt Asch's presence shift uncomfortably at it. _'Let me go. There's no chance of recovering your body, much less the Sword, if you insist on holding me paralyzed like this.'_

'_Just promise you won't do anything stupid. If you do, know that I _will _interfere again.'_

Luke wanted to scream again. Asch had no right to puppet his body! He wasn't a piece of property, he wasn't a _thing _that Asch could just have his merry way with. But their isofonic connection worked both ways. He didn't know whether he could pull it off, but if Asch was going to make him to do something he didn't want to do, Luke would force the original's consciousness out. Reluctantly, the replica replied, _'Fine.'_

He didn't expect it to be so abrupt. All at once the pain in his head, the pain of his entire body, ceased to be, and Luke fell to the ground, collapsed. Though the pain was gone, he still felt the aches, the echoes. And he still felt Asch's presence in the back of his head, but true to his word so far, the original left control of the replica's body to himself. Groaning, Luke slowly pushed himself off the ground, his entire body tingling like it was coming back online after having been asleep. Behind him, he heard rapid footfalls, the telltale signs of his friends having come after him. He stood, turning to face Lloyd and the others, who had stopped short when they saw him get off the ground.

"What happened?" Guy asked first, voicing everyone's thoughts. Luke could hardly blame them. He had run off after Asch, and they find him getting up off the ground, as if he had been knocked over. In a way, he had.

"A lot," Luke winced at the tingling in his limbs. "The short version is, the God-Generals set up a trap outside when Legretta escaped, they have Asch's unconscious body but they can't get his half of the Key, and Asch's mind is inside my head." He watched the expressions on his friends' faces gradually change as he revealed the new developments. Naturally they were primarily of disbelief and distress that, after they had gotten done saying how dangerous it was to be alone with such an important thing, Asch had gone off on his own and placed it all in jeapordy. Perhaps it was a Fabre thing.

"Did he say which God-Generals?" Tear asked softly, and Luke could see the sorrow in her visible eye. She hadn't had a chance to fight her instructor, Legretta, on Mt. Roneal, as she had been held hostage at the time, and in a way she had been relieved. But now that she had turned up, alive, there was no mistaking it: eventually they would have to face one another in battle. So long as the Major insisted on following her brother's errant dream. She had a small smile at the thought; the same applied to her brother. She hadn't fought him at the Absorption Gate, she had been at the Radiation Gate, helping Asch command it. But now … she would have to fight both of them, as long as they lived.

Luke paused as he considered the question, perhaps asking Asch. It was strange to think of the God-General taking residence in his replica's head, but then again the reverse had happened on the happy little trip to Ortion cavern. "Definitely Arietta, or at least her monsters," Luke said eventually. "There's still Legretta though she's injured, and …" His face contorted in rage. "And the wonderful Asch doesn't even know who the third one is. He was knocked out before he could even see the attack coming."

"What kind of trap is it? Did he know that at least?" Lloyd inquired, arms folded as he thought of Asch brusquely. How _did _he feel about the surly God-General taking up space in Luke's mind? It was strange, certainly, especially in that, judging from how he'd even gotten here and that weird dream-like encounter he'd had with Lorelei in the Roneal passage ring, Luke and Asch were special, even for original and replica.

Luke nodded, pointing to the path that cut through the Shurrey Hills to get to the passage ring's door. "He said there's a fonic glyph traced in the dirt there, and it'll activate if we step on it."

"Boooo," Anise hissed, glaring at the earth below. "If only we could see how big the glyph was, we could side step it or jump over it or something. Man, wish we had the Colonel here. His fonic sight would have come in handy right about now."

"Step carefully, then," Tear said, and the others all looked at her with stricken expressions. Why would she suggest stepping on a trapped glyph? But she smiled. "I'll sing the second hymn. Whatever it is, it won't hurt us, at least not right away." Before anyone could protest, she clutched her staff, Yulia's song flowing effortlessly from her lips, even though the miasma clogging up her fon slots must have caused her trouble in forming artes.

"_Kuroa Ryou Zue Toue Ryou Neu Rei, Ryou Zue,"_

The Second Fonons laced with the Seventh formed a barrier around the entire party. The Force Field never lasted very long, although it had always proved invaluable, buying time for more healing artes or offensive ones in the heat of battle. Reluctant as Luke and no doubt the others were for deliberately standing on a trapped fonic glyph, they would do it. Yulia's—no, Tear's—song would protect them.

Asch hadn't been kidding when he said the glyph would take effect immediately when someone stepped on it. The entire expanse of earth in the opening that cut into the bluff under which the passage ring rested glowed as the fonic glyph revealed itself, its fonons thrumming in the air with resonance, with power. Unlike the Holy Lance Asch had dodged earlier, this arte left no such opening. Instantly the latent Third Fonons swirled in the space of the symbol emitting green light, the air shaped into sudden, violent gales of wind lashing out against all those that stood in its area.

Impossibly Luke felt the Second Fonons Tear's song had laid over him like a shroud being ripped away from him as the trapped arte's Third ones flung him bodily across the path, and he yelled when his back hit the trunk of a tree. The others didn't fare any better, not by much at least: Guy was so good with the Third Fonon that he managed to soften his fall ahead on the path, and Lloyd had rolled across the hilltop, vanishing on the other side. The trapped glyph out of the way, Tear and Anise ran forward out of the passage ring's door, flanking Guy as he used his katana as leverage to get up. Luke and Lloyd, however, were vulnerable, separated as they were.

"What the hell—was that?" Luke groaned at the aches in his back courtesy of the arte and the tree, drawing Vorpal, its shivery blue reflecting in the sunlight. The strongest Third fonic artes he'd seen anyone cast, Jade included, were Turbulence, Wind Blade, and Air Thrust, at least in a wind form as far as the Colonel was concerned. Any more powerful Third artes had been used in a lightning fashion. Though Kratos's own weird strength had undoubtedly added to the power of what were supposed to be lesser artes, he'd never seen a wind formed Third fonic arte like _that._

Anise stepped in front of Tear as she murmured a Seventh fon verse over Guy, who recovered immediately. He joined the former Fon Master Guardian in the front line; the girl took Tokunaga from her shoulders and mounted the doll as it responded to her fonon frequency, growing to monstrous size. For all that it looked like a toy, it was clearly a weapon, and something not to be taken lightly. The three of them were torn as to what to do next—they didn't want to leave Luke and Lloyd in danger, exposed, but who knew how much more of the hills were trapped, never mind the God-Generals lurking about.

"Lloyd! You all right?" Luke called, carefully making his way around the hill. It was actually best if he had joined up with Tear and the others, but if he did that, then Lloyd would have been by himself. It was true that Lloy did have wings, but it was just unfair to leave him alone with who knew how many enemies crawling around. He sensed the attack with his fon slots before it came. A powerful collection of Third Fonons, mixing with the Fifth—

"_On the wings of the phoenix! Flare Tornado!"_

As with the trapped glyph, the Third Fonons around Luke burst into flame with the Fifth layered with them, and it was only thanks to a belated Guardian that he avoided anything more serious than a body's throw away from the area and a few minor burns. He skid on the earth, falling over when he lost balance. He snapped his gaze upward, and two pairs of verdure eyes locked. Luke's jaw dropped. His voice was small, shaking, hoarse.

"N-no—"

On the hilltop that hid the door into the passage ring, the sunlight behind him throwing him in an oddly dark glow stood none other than Sync the Tempest. He was dressed differently than his usual God-General attire, wearing a white coat hemmed with green, though his gloves, pants, and sleeves were black. He wore no mask, and while Ion had told Luke that Sync was also one of the seven replicas of the original Fon Master, a lightning bolt of shock still coursed though him. Ion's face stared back at him, except in twisted amusement, a cruel glimmer in those familiar eyes.

Luke tried to stand, he was under attack as well as the others, but he couldn't, staring frozen at the one who all those months ago had kept him under Daath's cathedral. The welts on his wrists had long since scabbed over, but they throbbed, the memory of their bindings coming back full force, and for a frightening moment, Luke thought his wrists were _still _shackled. Shaking, he dropped his sword, the blue blade of ice clattering on the packed earth. He scurried backward, hitting the slope of the hill behind him. His breath was rattling, shallow, as he tried desparately not to panic.

Why? Why couldn't at least one of the God-Generals stay dead, least of all that particular one?! Hadn't he suffered enough under the cathedral, locked in eternal darkness, then beaten, battered, and humiliated on the occasions light did cut through the blackness?

"No, no, no—"

Sync's high, cruel laugh echoed over Shurrey Hill. "What's the matter?" He called, smirking widely when Luke flinched at the sound of his voice. "You haven't forgotten me, have you, Light of the Sacred Flame?" He said the title scathingly, spitting it out as if it were a deadly poison. He held his arms out, a green glow forming in his hands. He fought unarmed, the fonons channeled into his limbs more than a match for tangible weapons. He crouched, baring his teeth like a tiger would in preparation to make a kill. As the Tempest leapt into the air, careening toward Luke, the world went white.

'_Replica!'_

-

Lloyd always had bad luck in situations that already bode less than well for him. The force of the trapped fonic arte, even with Tear's second hymn cloaked over him, had sent him rolling over the entire hillside of the top of the passage ring's door, and he fell with a grunt, clouds of dust rising from the packed earth underneath. He had only just stood up when he heard a loud roar behind him. He drew his swords, sharply turning on his heel as the huge liger leapt in the carved path from atop another slope, baring fangs and claws.

"Whoa!" Lloyd slashed at the liger's mouth, blood flying but it was a shallow wound. Huge paws made for him; he blocked one, but there was no way he could parry the other, so he concentrated—the grass chambers he'd received from Luke earlier helped a great deal—and he leapt backward, putting some distance between them. Of course the monster bounded after him, and he was forced to do no more than stall it, throwing some Third fonic artes to hinder it (he had just mastered Thunder Blade, though it looked like Kratos's even if it wouldn't be as powerful) as he made his way toward the others, Tear, Guy, and Anise. Though he mourned the loss of trust between him and Guy, there was no reason the blond had to leave him helpless in a fierce battle.

And the Sigmund swordsman had come through for him. Just as Lloyd had turned around the bend, titantic beast on his heels, Guy was a yellow-orange blur as he rushed the enemy, first with a Tempest then a well-aimed White Tiger Strike. Gouts of blood stained the earth underfoot, and the liger growled through its pain, lunging at Guy. Ridiculously agile, the Gardios heir leapt over the liger, forcing it backward with a Beast arte. It was almost like a sick game of ball, Lloyd reflected as he caught the monster in his own Tiger Rage strike arte. They were bouncing the liger back and forth, slowly wearing it down. Soon enough it wouldn't be for the world any longer.

"_O hellion whose roar chills the very soul, resound! Bloody Howling!"_

The beast was nothing if not crushed under the swirling sphere of First Fonons, its howls of agony as piercing as any emanating from a person. Swaying on its feet, it gave one last feeble snarl, gnashing its teeth, and fell over. Its chest rose and fell slowly, laboriously. But it was bleeding so much and crushed in so many places that it was going to die anyway. Right now the more important things were finding Luke and Asch's body. They took down a liger, but Arietta herself was not here. No doubt she was the one holding the original's unconscious body. They haven't seen Legretta or the third God-General yet, but if the sounds of battle on the other side of the hill were no indication, they didn't know what was.

Every single one of them jolted, their fon slots picking up intense fonic activity even at this distance. Instantly all four of them dashed across the path, fearing for the only one over there: Luke.

"That idiot had better be all right," Guy muttered darkly as he ran.

"He will," Lloyd breathed, though he almost stumbled at a burst of Third Fonons just ahead. "He has to be."

-

Sync bore down on Luke with an arm infused with searing Third Fonons, grinning toothily as undoubtedly his hit would land. The replica, Light of the Sacred Flame, Lorelei's perfect isofon, just sat there, cowering like a child, like a frightened deer, just staring as the attack came inexolerably closer. The Tempest's laughter rang, high and cold, as his arm made contact—

The Third Fonons that gloved his arm vanished abruptly, and an iron grip replaced them about his wrist. Sync grunted, trying to pry his arm away but Luke, who had been paralyzed in agony a mere moment ago, rose up, and twisted Sync's arm in such a way the God-General's body had flipped over. In the impact of the throw, the green haired lad wrenched his arm free, leaping back on his feet. What the hell? Before him, Luke no longer shook, was no longer enthralled by haunts of the past. He picked up the indigo blade he had dropped earlier, first in his right hand, then, weighing it, he shifted to his left.

"What's with you all of a sudden?" Sync spat, re-channeling his Third Fonons. Those were the two fonon types he used best: Third and Seventh, though as a replica of the Fon Master he had dominion over every single type. Then he saw Luke's eyes, cold, hard, nothing like they were before. Where they used to be bright like the leaves of a young springtime tree, the ones that glared at him now were dark, like poison. Not unlike Sync's own eyes. The verdant-haired boy grit his teeth. "Doesn't matter. I broke you once, I can do it again!" He thrust out a hand, every single fonon readily answering his call.

"_O roar of the earth! Ground Dasher!"_

The ground buckled, preparing to rise up as dragon's teeth. Luke leapt well out of the way, charging toward Sync. Behind him the earth rose up, rippling like a wave. He took in the surplus Second Fonons, slashing at the God-General before him with a Slag Assault. Sync's gloves of Third Fonons canceled out the pieces of rock slabs that would have otherwise harmed him, and they picked up their deadly dance. The child God-General had apparently never lost his edge in speed even after spending months in the core, although it was always possible Van had released him a while ago.

Every sword arte was blocked by Sync, and likewise all the God-General's attacks were either parried or dodged expertly by the replica that had been wallowing in his own demons earlier. An unearthly focus had taken over him, an impossibly smooth countentance but for the obvious anger he had toward his opponent. Vorpal's strikes bounced off Sync's arms and legs, leaving no mark for the inhuman control the boy had over every fonon type. Clever lad was funneling Fifth Fonons at the precise spots where he expected the azure edge to hit, rendering the blade of ice ineffective.

Luke snarled at the Ion replica before him, memories flashing before his mind's eye. The presence in the back of his mind cowered, still reeling at the fact that both his tormentors were alive, and one of them came before him plain as day, made all the worse because he wore the face of one of his best friends. Luke, or rather Asch, as the mind dominating their shared body, felt sick to the stomach. In the same vessel, they could hardly keep themselves separate from one another; Asch felt fresh waves of terror emanating from his replica's mind, the memories, and worse yet, every single _feeling _his replica had ever experienced underneath Daath's cathedral, the bottled up emotions spilling over, an uncontrollable tide. It was all Asch could do to keep Sync at bay without losing himself as well. He blinked back the wetness the memories, the pain, the fear brought.

"_How dare you!?"_ Asch shouted through his Rending Fang Blade, every single hit dodged or blocked by the child God-General. His own memories mingled in with Luke's, of his days working in the Oracle Knights, beside each of the other God-Generals. All those times he fought alongside Sync … it was true the boy could be a tad ruthless, but nothing like what he had done to Luke. Nothing on that level of sheer raw cruelty. "How could you do that to another person, and someone just like you no less! I never thought that even you--!" Words were lost to him as another clash, a flash of white gold, forced them apart. Strike artes weren't doing much good. It was time to try another approach. He held the Vorpal sword, fon slots whirling.

He wasn't even actively thinking of the arte as it formed, letting his own conflicting emotions take shape in the Fifth Fonons. Something dangerous to be sure, but at the moment he didn't care. Anything that dared get in his way could go to hell!

"_Bring … all to ash … and ruin!" _He made a slashing motion with his sword, sending the fonons in a leaping arc at Sync, who looked up, alarmed, at the mass of Fifth Fonons coalescing above him. He leapt to the side, hoping to dodge it, but to his horror, it followed him. Asch's voice, harsh and hoarse, rolled over the hills. _"Explosion!"_

Sync screamed, the pressure of the fiery arte sending him flying. Annoyed, Asch noted that the child God-General had escaped permanent damage with a last minute defense arte composed of Third and Fourth Fonons. His bent frown turned up into a disturbing smirk of satisfaction as he watched Sync's body roll across the grassy plains of Rugnica, like little more than a rag doll. Determined, he ran ahead, climbing up the slopes of the hill, intending to finish the job. He loomed over Sync's bruised body, the boy heaving breath, still recovering from the attack. Asch felt grossly satsified, Luke's lips spreading upward in a cruel, twisted smile as he raised the Vorpal Sword—

"_Éclair d'Larmes!"_

Belatedly Asch stepped back, but half the arte still struck. Wounded but by no means down, Sync kicked the Vorpal Sword from Asch's grasp, the indigo blade spinning in crazy arcs in the air before burying itself halfway in the earth a stone's throw off. Rushing to Sync's defense was none other than Legretta, her injured arm bandaged and probably tended to by whatever Oracle healer they had brought. On his knees, Asch scowled as the Quick's gun was pointed between his eyes. Just before she was to squeeze the trigger, a familiar song washed over them.

"_Kuroa Ryou Zue Toue Ryou Neu Rei, Ryou Zue,"_

Legretta opened fire, but the bullets splintered off the impenetrable barrier Tear's hymn invoked. As Anise, Guy, and Lloyd rushed forward to Luke's defense, Asch, still in control of the replica's body, blinked as he watched Sync get to his feet. There was something he hadn't noticed before, so absorbed he had been in his replica's despair and his own flaming fury. A belt of green silk was tied around Sync's waist, with a few tassels dangling, stoppered by turquoise beads. A leather scabbard was attached to that belt, on the boy's left side as a right handed swordsman would wear it. And even though Sync fought unarmed, there was no doubt about it: there was a sword in that scabbard. The Ion replica turned, ever so slightly, and Asch gaped, lips parted in shock.

The golden eye stared into his own jade green ones, almost accusingly.

Before anyone could fire off any more artes, strike or fonic, splayed shadows flew over them, and three giant birds of prey descended upon upon with sweeping wings. Two held the same crimson plumage as the birds Arietta had hailed when Akzeriuth was on the verge of collapsing. The other was an aqua blue, the girl's own friend. On its back sat the youngest of the female God-Generals, and in its talons—Asch's throat hitched. Legretta addressed Arietta, though she kept her guns aimed at the enemies before them. Sync also stood at the ready, always keeping himself swathed in Third Fonons.

"Arietta! How is your liger brother?"

The girl's long hair hid most of her face, and by burying it in her doll, she didn't make seeing it any easier. "He's badly injured, but he'll live. He's going to rest until he can fight again."

Legretta nodded. "We need to retreat for now. The Commandant won't be pleased—"

Sync scoffed, cynical laughter cutting off the Quick. "It's not a total loss. We do have the Sword, after all." He waved a careless hand toward what the blue hawk clutched protectively in its talons: the unconscious body of Asch the Bloody. Seeing his own body through Luke's eyes was unsettling, to say the least. The Tempest smirked, even through his bruises and burns. "All that's left is the Jewel." Both he and Legretta moved toward their crimson birds, and Asch realized the red ones had been fitted with leather harnesses. Neither the Tempest or the Quick were attuned or comfortable enough to ride a giant bird bareback. Though the harness—jesses—looked complex, the God-Generals slipped in them in a matter of seconds, and the birds beat their huge wings, preparing to take flight with all their burdens.

"_O melody beckoning toward the abyss! Toue Rei Zue Kuroa Ryou Toue Zue,"_

Tear's hymn had reached the birds taking wing, but their Seventh Fonist, their very own Fon Master projected a swath of Seventh and Sixth Fonons that brutally canceled out the first hymn. They were lifting off the ground now, and Sync was even conjuring Third Fonons to help create lift—

"You're not getting away!" Guy screeched, jumping up in a Searing Gale. He scalded some of the feathers of Sync's bird, for which the child God-General rewarded him with a well aimed kick upside the head. Hard wingbeats sent him flying down to earth, his body almost bouncing on the impact. Anise cast for a fonic arte—she couldn't reach them on Tokunaga, even if the birds were slow to gain altitude because of their heavy burdens.

"_C'mon water, take 'em out! Maelstrom!"_

She had been careful to place it between Legretta and Arietta's birds; she didn't want to damage Asch's body. The hurricane of ice and water had knocked the Quick's mount off course, tumbling close to earth but not quite. Sync's was also hindered by its singed feathers, but Arietta's bird was perfectly fine, even with two people to carry. It alone gained the highest altitude. Frowning, Anise gathered up more fonons, for all the good it would do. Behind her, Tear was busy healing Guy, though she looked no more pleased at the prospect of the God-Generals getting away with Asch's body.

"Goddamnit," Lloyd snarled as the three avian monsters steadily climbed the skies, getting smaller all the time. "I don't fight very well in midair." He ignored the startled looks Tear and Anise gave him, giving himself a running start, amassing Third Fonons as he did. When he gained enough speed, he leapt, and with a turquoise flash his wings materialized, shining like a jewel, catching the wind to wheel him upward. He was approaching Arietta's bird fast, rolled twice to dodge the Thunder Blade Sync tossed at him and Legretta's Holy Lance. He climbed, long wings beating even though he hardly needed to do so, arcing above Arietta's bird and tilting himself downward in a dive.

"Ahh!" Anise screeched, clutching her head in fear as the fonons she had been gathering fell apart. "Wh-what's he doing?! If he divebombs her he'll get hurt, too!"

Tear would have sung another second hymn, but she wasn't sure if it would reach so high up, and she was still healing Guy. The poor man's forehead was bleeding, and he had dislocated one of his shoulders in the fall he took. The blond swordsman groaned, not giving into unconsciousness just yet. Instead, he looked up, at the bright turquoise aura that was Lloyd careening down at breakneck speed at Arietta on her bird friend. His eyes, blue like the sky above, widened. In surprise, or fear?

"_Air Thrust!" _The plentiful Third Fonons around Arietta changed into sharpened edges of air, and the girl shrieked, the hostile wind knocking her off her mount. The bird screeched, immediately dropping Asch's body in favor of saving its human companion. While it closed its azure wings and dove for the girl God-General, Lloyd thrust himself downward with his wings, arms outstretched toward Asch's falling body.

It seemed to happen slowly. Down below Asch through Luke's eyes was watching his own body falling inexorably to to the earth. From that height, there was no doubt his body wouldn't survive. His eyes were fixed on the turquoise light above, Lloyd trying to make up for the difference in distance, though he was so very close. But it was impossible. Everything fell toward the planet at the same rate in a free fall. Simply put, Asch's body was already ahead, and Lloyd just couldn't fall fast enough to hope to catch it. His stomach dropped into queasy hell.

But there it was—against all odds, against all hope, there Lloyd was, tumbling in the air to break from his dive, the body of Asch the Bloody wrapped tightly in his arms. He breathed heavily, watching to see if the mounted God-Generals were come after him with his precious prize, but the bird monsters followed the blue one, away. No doubt the monsters were exhausted as they were, injured in the bargain. If the God-Generals had stayed, their birds wouldn't have been able to attempt to aid in their escape.

Tear forced herself not to look when she had seen Asch's body falling, but from the obvious sighs of relief from Anise, Luke, and even Guy, Lloyd must have succeeded. She reshaped her healing arte into fonic hymns, beginning with the third. If Holy Song wouldn't do the trick for Guy's injuries, there was always Revitalize. As she worked her healing hymns, Guy's countenance smoothed, azure eyes following Lloyd as he descended from the skies. Relaxing into Tear's hymns, he whispered. "Lloyd, I …" He closed his eyes, melting into the healing arte.

Asch heaved a sigh as Lloyd's wings disappeared in a down of crystalline feathers, dropping to his knees, cradling the original's body even as the twin blader's own breath heaved with adrenaline, and perhaps disbelief. Wine red eyes looked up to meet verdure, and Lloyd blinked. Asch grimaced, reaching forward to touch his own body. It was extremely surreal to say the least. After a nervous pause, Lloyd spoke.

"Luke, are you okay …?"

Asch shook his head, or rather, shook Luke's head as he brushed his knuckles against his rightful face. Well, even unconscious, at least his body was breathing. "The repli … Luke won't respond. He's locked himself in his own head, I've been controlling his body for the last half hour." He waited for the words to sink into Lloyd, whose eyes went wide. But the dual swordsman seemed to accept them, at least for now since Luke's voice wasn't as harsh as it was now, Luke's eyes were never that cold.

Asch pressed hands on his body, on the shoulders. He realized he didn't quite know how to transfer his own consciousness from Luke's body, or even pry his mind from the replica's for that matter. Though he wasn't responding, the feelings, the memories seeped over their connection quite freely. If he tried to leave the body now, he might pull his replica's mind with him. He blinked as he focused on his rightful body, meeting … resistance? How? There was nothing in there_ to_ resist!

"What's up, Luke?" Ansie asked hovering over his shoulder. "Why isn't Asch—" she clamped her mouth shut when Luke's face looked up at her. But those eyes were definitely not Luke's. Their whole look had changed. They looked like … Asch's eyes. Asch scoffed, fingers tightening on the black and red Oracle mantle.

"I—can't reach my own body!" It was blocking him out. But how? Why? Before he could elaborate any further, a long shadow fell over him.

"Well, well," Came the falsely musical voice. "First the trouble at St. Binah, now _this. _Just what have you troublesome kids been up to while we were apart?"

Startled, they turned, even Tear who was still fixing Guy's wounds. Standing before them, looking unruffled and unchanged in the month they had seen him last, was Colonel Jade Curtiss.

--

A/N: Almost ten thousand words. Owie. I know this chapter is a lot to swallow, since my average chapter length is three thousand words at the most for this story, but after that horrendous pause I figured I'd make an effort for a better chapter. And with everything in this chapter, I can just write a new synopsis from here~


	44. All The Difference

A/N: I seriously need new glasses soon. Everything gets blurry with them on, and of course my vision's no better without them . There's your random news of the day.

--

Jade's crimson eyes bored into Luke's, but the pools of verdant green, almost menacingly dark, were certainly not Luke's. Behind his glasses his gaze darted to the body held between Luke and Lloyd, the black and red Oracle uniform obvious even from a distance. An unconscious Asch the Bloody, everyone bearing some mark of having been roughened by a most recent skirmish.

The Colonel's insides froze as he looked upon Lorelei's perfect isofons, one unmoving, the other wearing a face usually never seen on him. Unbidden everything he had theorized about perfect isofons bubbled up in his head, seeing in his memories the cheagle they had rescued from Ortion Cavern. There had been two cheagles, but at the time of their second visit, there was only one. The one in the cage marked as the replica. And yet …

Jade's voice lost its musical playfulness, becoming stern, harsh, hard. "What happened here?" To the immediate left knelt Tear beside Guy who was very much unaware of his surroundings, enveloped in the gentle light of healing hymns. Blood ran down the side of the Sigmund swordsman's face. Of the current party only Tear and Anise appeared as if they avoided incurring any wounds themselves, Lloyd, Luke, Asch, and Guy very much bruised and beaten around. Jade's mouth flattened.

"What happened, Luke?" He repeated, the knitting in his brow betraying that he was not amused at all, not in the least. "Or should I say Asch?"

Luke's fingers tightened their grip on Asch's Oracle mantle, the knuckles bleached white from the effort. "You should," He answered in a low voice, hoarse and gravelly. Jeez, what was the old man's problem? It wasn't like he had wanted to be stuck in his replica's head, much less under the circumstances forced upon them. The Colonel acted as if Asch had taken residence in Luke's body solely to spite him.

"Oh Colonel," Anise slid tiredly off Tokunaga, even though she hadn't done the brunt of the physical fighting. Her petite frame shook with the excitement of the fight earlier. "It was bad! It was all bad! The God-Generals ambushed us and tried to take Asch, he won't wake up and—and—" So upset she was she sounded nearly on the verge of tears, something that surprised Jade greatly. Then he caught it, those honey brown eyes darting to steal a glance at Lloyd. There was only one thing about Lloyd that could have unnerved Anise, who held herself together as much as she could no matter the circumstance. Tear, finishing her healing trance, had her back turned to Lloyd, though the Colonel could not be sure if it was intended or not.

Jade studied Lloyd for a time, the boy clearly worn and ragged. He still didn't quite know how to feel about the fact the twin swordsman had wings. What he'd told Guy about the wings was true enough, his fonic sight didn't lie. But a person possessing fonic wings, on which to fly … it was unheard of, he'd think that at least one record of such a thing would have survived. Then again, if any such records existed, no doubt the Order of Lorelei would have kept them under lock and key, just as they had with the forbidden text from which they derived the plan to stop the core's vibration.

"Asch, then," Jade continued, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I gather from Anise's rambling that the God-Generals attacked you. Was it Kratos and Cantabile? Dist, perhaps?" Saphir never was an athletic man, but the fontech he employed could ravage mountains. He paused, catching the look in Luke's—Asch's—eye. "Or … they survived the avalanche?"

Asch, puppeting Luke's body, nodded slowly. Jade sighed.

"Oh, well, we lived through it, so there's no reason they couldn't have as well. Why were the God-Generals after you, Asch?"

"… Lorelei's trapped. It wants to become the seventh layer of the fon belt, and so sent me and Luke—"

Jade quirked a brow, curious, at the Bloody's name of choice. Luke, not replica, idiot, or even dreck.

"—the halves of the Key of Lorelei. I have the Sword, Luke was supposed to get the Jewel. The God-Generals tried to take the Sword from me, but I took its fonons into myself. I got knocked out, next thing I knew, my mind was in Luke's body. He's been shut in his own head and the idiot was going to get himself killed, so I stepped in to help." His frown, if possible, got deeper, and the hands holding the God-General mantle began to shake. "And for some reason, I can't open the channel to my own body."

The explanation sent Jade's eyebrows straight up so they disappeared under his rather generous hairline. It was the closest thing Jade would show for open surprise or shock, and rightly so even for the Colonel. His crimson eyes, inscribed upon with fonic sight, examined Lorelei's perfect isofons, lingering more on the Bloody's unconscious form in Luke's arms. Indeed in Asch's body, just under the surface for easy retrieval, was a layer of Seventh Fonons amongst the other six types, spread thinly. While it was risky for someone to attempt the contamination effect if they'd never done it before, Asch's actions had saved the Sword of Lorelei, so Jade couldn't find it in him to fault the God-General.

"You can't open the link? Shouldn't you say you can't synchronize your fon slots?"

Like a bolt of lightning striking down, Luke's body jolted. "My fon slots? What, did they put a fon slot seal on me?"

"No, not a seal," Jade said thoughtfully, kneeling down over Asch's body. Though the young man's fon slots weren't completely closed off, there was something like a … pattern impressed over them, directing fonons elsewhere. His eyes went wide. Whoever had done this was nothing short of stunningly brilliant. Instead of forcibly closing off the slots, they had carved paths that made fonons aimed toward them splinter off, created specifically for the Seventh Fonon. Rather similar to how people dug canals to redirect water, except instead of bringing in the water, this strange arte had turned it away for the purpose of bleeding the slots dry.

"So, Colonel?" Anise asked, hovering worriedly beside her still enlarged puppet, "what's wrong with Asch's body?" She seemed nervous about looking at Luke, something Jade could hardly blame her for. It was so very strange to see Asch's harsh expressions, the seething anger, the venomous look in his eyes on Luke's face. It just didn't fit.

"One of the God-Generals inscribed a fonic arte on Asch's body to irrigate and repel any Seventh Fonons that were not meant for anything like a healing arte. Since the link between isofons involves synchronizing the fon slots with the Seventh Fonon, this prevents Asch from accessing his rightful body."

"What?" Lloyd asked, bewildered. He had since regained his breath after whatever sort of battle the struggle against the God-Generals had been, but he still bore numerous cuts, bruises, and patches of dirt on his person. "Didn't they want Asch to help them?"

"His rather forward disobedience eliminates him from the running, I'm afraid," Jade answered curtly. "It's clear they only want the Sword he carries. It's nearly impossible to extract an object stored in someone's body via the contamination effect, you risk pulling apart the fonons that compose it, thereby losing it forever. But Van's methods _do_ tend to lean on the extreme side."

Wounds healed, the bleeding on his forehead stemmed, shoulder successsfully relocated, Guy sat upright. His sapphire eyes shifted nervously to look at Tear, but bless the melodist, out of respect for his phobia she had backed up a few feet so as to avoid forcing Guy to make any sudden movement that would aggravate his freshly healed hurts. Swallowing an orange gel, Tear approached Lloyd with the intent of healing him as well, but the boy shook his head, sparing her strength by taking care of himself with his own healing artes. While not as powerful as Tear's artes, his injuries weren't as serious as Guy's had been.

"I'll bet you five hundred Gald Sync was the one who did it," Guy spoke, rolling his freshly cured shoulder. He winced a bit, but everything was in order; it was merely sore from its ordeal. He pointedly ignored the mischievous grin on Anise's face at the mention of betting money. "It sounds like what he did to me with the Curse Slot, even if it what it does is different."

"Does that mean it's a Daathic fonic arte?" Anise burst her question, a stricken look on her face. She slumped against her Tokunaga, heaving an irritated sigh. "Only Fon Masters of the Order of Lorelei can remove Daathic artes. But Ion got so sick when he cured Guy …" She clenched her fists, frustrated. Of course she realized they needed Asch's Sword and his body intact if they were to free Lorelei and stop the Commandant's replication plans, but she didn't want to see Ion get sick anymore! It was almost as if he didn't have a choice because he was the only one who could do it!

The time when Guy had been carved with the Curse Slot had been so very long ago, but Colonel Jade Curtiss was said to have a photographic memory. He recalled the patterns of the Curse Slot, all its intricacies and the way it manipulated fonons, most particularly memory particles of the subject in order to induce its intended effect. The way the arte was laid over Asch's fon slots, it wasn't anywhere near the attention to detail the Curse Slot had. Rather, with a Daathic arte as a model to go on, Sync had merely improvised another arte similar but with an effect specifically in mind for Asch the Bloody.

"Don't fret, Anise dear," Jade said, the musical lilt in his voice coming back with the comfort of his discovery. As for all intents and purposes the grandfather of every replica born to further Van's plans, he had an obligation to care for them and make sure they were more than mere tools of convenience. Granted, it wasn't just out of that obligation … he had no real wish to see the innocent Fon Master harmed any more than his guardian did. "While it's similar, it is by no means a Daathic arte. However, the only ones who have any hope of removing it are Sync, Luke, and Asch." They had no idea where the surviving God-Generals made their base of operations, so their chances of finding Sync, much less forcing the Fon Master replica to remove his arte, were rather slim. But …

"Asch, you said Luke locked himself in his own head. Why is that?" He didn't know why he had to ask, he already knew why. Vividly he recalled speaking to Luke in the frigid, snow laden city of Keterburg, head bowed as he laid his heart bare to the Necromancer. Not every single detail of course, but the way he boy shook as he relived it, it was easy to see what he had experienced hadn't been very pleasant.

Asch's grip loosened somewhat on his Oracle mantle, as if he had forced himself to do so. The way his face fell, for a moment Jade could believe it was in fact the replica's mind, not the original's he was interacting with. "He … pretty much had a breakdown when he saw Sync. I told everyone it was likely the God-Generals, Van included, were still alive, but for him to see it face to face, much less _Ion's _face, the memories …" He shuddered, pressing a hand to his mouth as if he were going to be sick. "It was just too much."

An uneasy silence had fallen over everyone, whose eyes were fixed on Luke, their lips parted in disbelief. It was true they never had asked Luke what had happened when the God-Generals had taken him to Daath, and Luke himself never said anything more than a simple, "I was in a dungeon under the cathedral."

And, glad enough to have Luke back alive, much less so well he was running about, was more than they could have hoped for, especially considering how badly Van had wanted Luke dead before. Though Luke had always been somewhat diminished after he found out about being a replica, what on earth would make him have a full-fledged breakdown so that Asch would have to intervene to save him? The implications were unmistakable.

"What happened to Luke when he was in Daath?" Guy demanded, glaring daggers at his friend, or rather, the original puppeting his friend's body. He and Asch never had been on the best of terms, from the time they were kids and especially not now. Never mind that Asch had saved Luke's life in taking control of his body, it just wasn't _right. _When Asch remained silent, the Sigmund swordsman rounded on Lloyd: "You rescued him from the cathedral! What happened to him?!"

Lloyd recoiled from the intensity of Guy's bothered words. He stammered, "I-I don't know! He wasn't in a dungeon when I found him! And he'd never tell me anything even if I asked!" The blond man's gaze continued to smolder, but all Lloyd could offer was a bewildered shrug, he didn't know much more than that. He tried, "Look, if you don't believe anything else I say, believe that." That made Guy look away, abashed, and perhaps even ashamed.

"Regardless," Jade's soft voice broke the uncomfortable silence that lay like a shroud over them, "Asch, Luke's secrets are his own to give, but you must as least convince him to come back; you can't undo what was done to your body without his help. No matter how good you are with the Seventh Fonon, it is Luke's body you are residing in, and you wouldn't be able to undo the arte on your own in any case." He inclined his head downward so that the light bending off his glasses glared, hiding his crimson eyes. "To do that, you are coming with us. Is that clear?"

Asch's anger contorted Luke's face, but even he knew it, no matter how reluctant he was to follow through. Not even he would live with himself if he'd run off now, with his own body little more than a vegetable and a half crazed replica in his head. The perfect crime of falling in the downward spiral of a madman, running and hiding while the world collapsed in flames all around them. If he did that, Van would indeed have a reason to be proud of his students. Hating everything, hating just how damn _hard _everything had to be, Asch swallowed his pride and nodded.

"Fine."

--

Jade had been in St. Binah for a grisly reason: the troops under the command of General Frings stationed near the Malkuth side of Chesedonia had been attacked. Nobody knew who had done the deed, until recently, it would have been Kimlasca, but there was no way King Ingobert or Natalia would have condoned such an act of aggression after everything they had gone though to preserve the peace before the lowering of the Outer Lands. That left Jade's heading for Grand Chokmah, as St. Binah was under reconstruction and thereby was no place for all the injured soldiers.

Noelle had graciously agreed to transport those of the injured soldiers that could be moved to the Malkuth capital. The others had boarded Ginji's Albiore III, Jade, Anise, Tear, Guy, and Lloyd strapped in the passenger seats behind the pilot while Asch sat against a wall, cradling his own body in his arms. To the untrained eye it looked as if he had fallen asleep slumped against the wall, but those who were aware of his circumstances knew the God-General was working to sort out his mind, his and his replica's.

Grand Chokmah was the default destination not only for Jade in finding out from survivors who had attacked Malkuth; Guy needed to report to Emperor Peony that he had indeed found Asch and was bringing him to the city, with half the Key of Lorelei that could supposedly suppress the increased activity of the Planet Storm. As for the others, they were already involved, it would be nothing short of unnecessary, not to mention cruel, for them to be denied after everything.

"So, Lloyd," Anise said in a voice that was nearly a squeak, but not quite. Lloyd looked up across the cockpit to meet the former Fon Master Guardian's honey brown eyes, appearing not at all eager to talk. "How long have you had those wings?"

"A while, actually," Lloyd said quietly, trying and failing to keep looking at Anise, remembering all too vividly how Guy and Jade had first reacted when he'd been forced to use his wings. Never mind he had saved Luke's life and the whole of Auldrant in the bargain, his wings made him irrevocably different, and that was just unforgivable. "But, you can see why I don't go showing them off all the time—" Anise's reponse caught him completely off guard.

"Are you kidding?!" Her voice had adopted an unnaturally high pitch, like a school girl cooing over something impossibly cute. "You know how freaking _cool _that would be, to have wings you could fly yourself on, not to mention how absolutley _big and beautiful _ones like yours are! Why, if I had wings like those, I could win any man I wanted!"

A scarlet flush splashed on Lloyd's face. He honesty didn't know what to say to that. "W-well, I, uh …"

"You two don't seem surprised," Tear said softly, looking first at the Colonel, then to Guy. Jade merely smiled, while Guy frowned, electing to say nothing. "You knew, didn't you?"

"Yes, and though I might understand if you're a bit put off, what was I supposed to say? Oh by the way, our dear friend Lloyd has wings?" He gave a chortle, some real mirth in it for once. "I'm sorry, Tear, Anise, but Lloyd's secrets, like Luke's, are his own to give."

At that statement, Lloyd shifted uncomfortably but didn't say anything. "Tear, are you bothered by it? It's weird, isn't it, having wings …?" He could have burst into laughter at that moment, at the sheer, raw _irony _of that statement. He held it in check; if Luke were truly on the verge of losing himself, they didn't need one more collapsing. Everything was difficult enough as it was.

After a few moments of consideration, Tear shook her head. "It was something of a surprise, that's all. And … even if I am bothered by it, the fact remains: if you didn't have those wings or didn't use them, Asch's body would have been dead, and the Sword of Lorelei lost forever. We owe you that much."

As the words left the melodist's lips, Lloyd felt an incredible surge of relief. He didn't feel like such an outcast all of a sudden, not anymore. Though with Guy in close proximity, even that feeling couldn't be complete. To have Guy reach out and trust him when no other but Luke would, and then to so suddenly and harshly revoke that trust, even going so far as to call him a monster … it hurt, more deeply than the Gardios heir could know. And for some reason, Lloyd couldn't find it in him to fault the Sigmund swordsman.

"Tear," Lloyd said with a sigh of relief, "thank you."

--

Asch was not asleep in his corner of the Albiore's cockpit. It was more accurate to say he was in a trance of sorts, eyes closed, blocking out everything else outside his mind for focus. He held his own body in his arms—he'd gotten over the sheer weirdness of it at least fifteen minutes ago—feeling the pattern of the strange arte Sync had carved on his fon slots. As he tried over and over to reach his body, he found what Jade said was true: the Seventh Fonons that made up their connection were being funneled down strange paths and repelled, barred from entering the fon slots as deeply as they should.

But even if he could have retreated back to his own body, there was no way he could have burned the memories from his mind, not the feelings, not the experience itself. As if it had happened to Asch himself as well as the replica, branded into his very being, a scar that would not disappear even with all the healing artes of the highest caliber washed over him. Without realizing as he plumbed the depths of their shared mind and body, tears welled up, falling slowly.

_The world is white. No beginning, no end, just an endless expanse of white light. Asch, in his own likeness as he imagines within his mind, walks this endless sea of light, following nothing but a vague feeling. This feeling is faint, flickering, like a guttering candle that threatens to snuff out forever. Despite everything that had happened, or perhaps because of it, Asch knows he can't simply leave his replica alone. He is a lost child trying to fit into a world that will not have him, will not accept him, even though he himself doesn't even know what exactly he is._

_Soon enough, inevitably, Asch finds it: a great roiling mass of red gold, a splash of life among all the white. It moves like a flame alive, but the original knows it for what it is, a protective barrier of nothing but Seventh Fonons, designed to close off the one inside it from the world and all its cruelty. Through the gaps of churning fonons, Asch sees him, sitting on the floor, hiding his face, hugging his knees to his chest. He sees Luke for what he is, a child alone, abused, neglected and scared._

_Luke is not dressed like an up and coming future duke. Nothing decorated, nothing fine, just a plain black T-shirt with pants to match, barefoot, his hands covered with the brown gloves he first began to wear when they started to callous over from swordplay. The white overcoat he used to always wear is lying on the floor beside him, forgotten, torn, ripped, dirty, the cloth splattered with what Asch realizes with horror are bloodstains. Grimacing, he reaches up to press a hand against the fire gold barrier of fonons._

_The Seventh Fonons immediately rush to the defense of the replica, resisting the pressure from Asch's hand. He begins to press harder, more and more golden Seventh Fonons rallying together to form a tangible wall. With a start, he hears Luke's voice, strangled and pathetically mewling._

Please don't.

_He hears everything in his replica's voice, distorted with racking sobs. The guilt, the pain, the fear, the longing, the shame. He immediately knew the root of it all. It was the shock of seeing his tormentor Sync the Tempest alive and well, and more than happy to shatter what sense of self Luke had gained and crush the fragments under his boot. Luke had never intended anyone to know the extent of what happened under Daath's cathedral all those long months ago, let alone to experience everything as he did. Right outside the barrier of Seventh Fonons he had thrown up around himself is the one person that had seen his heart laid bare completely, the last person he wants to expose those memories to._

Luke, _Asch's voice echoes as he fights to hold his own conflicting feelings at bay, _you have to come back. We … I need your help. I can't do this alone.

It doesn't matter, _Comes the distorted voice, its owner bereft of all confidence, of all hope. _We have the Sword but no Jewel, and without the Jewel, there's no Key, and if there's no Key there's no way we can do anything, not with _them _out there--! _His words break off in a choked, trembling cry._

Luke, please, don't make me do this … _Asch grimaces, pushing harder on the wall of Seventh Fonons. The resistance grows feebler and feebler with each second passing by, and while before the God-General had always completely shattered the replica's mental barriers, right now is different. Before, that had just been to tell Luke whatever plans that heralded his involvement, nothing personal even though the very nature of their isofonic connection is._

_Luke's mindset right now is extremely fragile. One wrong move, and Asch would destroy whatever sense of self his replica had managed to gather up for himself, losing him as a person forever. Before, Asch wouldn't have cared, would have smashed the barriers without hesitation, perhaps even reveled in the broken doll his replica would become. But now, all his animosity, all his anger, all his rage, evaporated as he looks through the shield of fonons at the poor child who was one step closer to falling off the edge of despair._

For that one instant, _Asch speaks, hoping that Luke is listening, _you and I were one person. I was you, and you were me, we not only saw but experienced one another's memories as if we were there. I know everything you've gone through, and … you know everything I've been through.

_They are connected in such a way, understand one another in such a way that nobody else on the face of the planet could ever begin to comprehend. They always clash, and it had cost them, the world, dearly. If they continue to run away from one another, from what makes them unique, what makes them what they are, the world would suffer. _

_Asch takes in a deep breath. The wall of Seventh Fonons before him shifts, not quite as solid had it had been. He can break through it with no problem. But he knows from painful experience that trust is won, not forced. _Like you thought before, there's no need to keep running, no need to keep turning my back on everything and just hope the pain goes away on its own. It doesn't. I let it fester within me like some sickness, and look where it got me. _The golden shield falters, the intensity of its movement slowing down around the child it was protecting. Hoping he is close to winning through to the replica, the original continues._

I know what was done to you, and it was awful. It was horrible, painful, inhumane, it was _wrong. _But if you just run away from it, if you turn your back on it, if you let it infect you like a sickness … you'd end up completely alone, trying to overcome insurmountable odds with almost no chance of success. You'd end up bereft of everything that ever mattered to you … You'd end up just like … just like _me. _Is that what you want?

_Comparing their histories, Asch knows with a painful wrench of his heart that after the harrowing of Daath's cathedral, Luke had had it tougher. Yes, it is true that Van deceived Asch, tricked him into leaving his family behind, it is true that Luke had inadvertently stolen everything that ever mattered to Asch, but … Asch's despair, Asch's agony is nothing in the face of a sadistic capture, the jailor causing pain for the _fun _of it. Ever since Akzeriuth, Luke had struggled to find himself, is struggling still. The poor boy is confused, and just doesn't know. For a time, the wall of Seventh Fonons still churns, slowing down, losing momentum in the fierce desire Luke had in wanting to close himself off from everything. Asch's hand is still pressed on the mass of golden fonons._

_Though Asch puts no additional weight on his hand, abruptly the glowing shield of Seventh Fonons ceases to be, disappearing completely. Patters echo around them, like the sound of rain hitting the pane of a glass window. In surprise Asch looks down; the Seventh Fonons became marbles of red gold, rolling on the smooth, white floor, reflecting light from yellow to red to white gold. Startled, Luke looks up at Asch, at his original, the person he always tries to be worthy of, to measure up to in one way or another. _

_Frightened of no shield, no wall, no barrier to protect himself from close contact with his original, Luke scurries backward, upsetting some of the golden glass marbles. They roll, colliding with one another, splayed lights of liquid gold painting the world of bright white. Frowning, Asch takes slow steps forward, as if he is approaching a skittish deer. He doesn't want to scare off his replica, not when the world—no, not when he needed Luke most. The most important person in the world Asch might be, it made no difference if Luke is not there. Luke makes all the difference in this impossible game of cat and mouse Van insists on playing._

_Slowly, so very slowly, Asch gains ground, he and Luke moving through the sea of tiny golden spheres. Finally, they are close. Asch kneels, holding out a hand to the frightened child before him. At Luke's stricken expression as he looks at his original's hand, the God-General speaks, _You don't have to be alone anymore. Neither of us do. _Luke pauses, staring at the hand hovering in front of him. He swallows, reaches out, and grasps Asch's hand in his own._

_And that made all the difference._

--

A/N: Obligatory Asch+Luke weirdness, can't have a good Abyss fanfic without it!


	45. An Angel's Mercy

A/N: For those of you that read Royal Guard and wanted to see what Luke looks like in Imperial Knight uniform, I have two sketches of that on my Deviantart profile, under the name Hikaru-Irving.

--

Ginji landed the Albiore ahead of Theor Forest, within walking distance of Grand Chokmah. Slowly, wordlessly the heads of the others turned to look at the original's unconscious body cradled in the replica's arms. Still they leaned against the wall, just as they had when the airship had taken off from Shurrey Hill. To everyone else the pair looked no different, almost as if they would stay that way forever if left alone. Jade was the first to approach them.

Before the Colonel had even opened his mouth to ask, verdant eyes opened. For a moment they were unfocused, like their owner was slowly waking from a heavy sleep. Within seconds it passed, the green pools sharpening, becoming dark and hard. Jade could have sighed his disappointment.

"Asch. How is Luke?"

Asch scowled at the Necromancer. Why was it nobody was ever happy to see _him? _The only exceptions were Natalia and to some extent even Luke; with all the others he may as well just go crawl under a rock. He kept his words civil, but there was no mistaking the irritation in his tone.

"Not great, but he's not shutting himself away anymore."

"Well, I suppose that is as much of a first step as we're going to get at the moment," Jade ceded with a shrug. Nobody but Asch could force Luke to show himself, and he doubted that the original even would think of doing such a thing. He could only guess what Luke must be feeling, and making him face everything before he was ready was not just cruel, it could be damaging to what they were trying to do. If anything, Asch would rather take the lead with the knowledge he could be objective and rational.

"But he still is _there_, right?" Lloyd asked suddenly, drawing Asch's gaze. "I mean, it looks like he's not there. Just you."

Asch rolled his eyes, and for a moment the others had to keep themselves from smiling or laughing; it was so like Luke.

"Of course he's still here! He can hear everything you're saying, too."

"O-oh. Really?" Even with the pseudo crash course on fomicry he'd received from Jade and the others, Lloyd still found it incredibly odd how Asch and Luke were connected. He was still trying to grasp the fact that it was Asch's mind in Luke's body, and it was infinitely strange to see Luke's face with Asch's expressions, to hear him with the original's crude tone and mannerisms.

"I guess that works out, Emperor Peony does want to talk to you, Asch." Guy said from his seat, unbuckling the safety harness. "Seeing how you have half the Key of Lorelei and know more about it than we do at the moment."

"Yeah, might as well leave the explanation til then," Asch said. He shifted, his body in his arms. His face fell when he looked at it. "Uh, what should we do with my body?" He asked, looking up at Jade. The Colonel had always been the de facto leader of the group and as such almost always knew exactly what to do and how to go about it. He might have his own motives, but everything about the Colonel was completely different from Van. Asch could live with trusting this man, and with Luke trusting him as well.

"It _would _be rather inconvenient to carry it around all the time." Tear said after a few moments of silence. "Not to mention weird. If we were attacked by the God-Generals again, they'd have no problem taking it away." Though she did think that the image of Luke, who always wanted to mean something to his original, carrying Asch who would rather jump off a cliff than admit to needing help, was nothing short of … _cute. _

"But if we just left it anywhere, they could get at it anyway." Asch growled, frustrated. As an Oracle Knight and God-General, he knew a dead weight when he saw one, and hated the fact it was his own fault that this particular dead weight was on their hands. He usually cut out everything useless in his own troops, but this was _his body, _he'd have to live the rest of his life sharing his replica's body if something happened to his own. The fact that the Sword of Lorelei was for all intents and purposes locked inside it made it worse. They couldn't just throw it away, friend and foe alike knew it.

"We could leave it here on the Albiore." Anise suggested. Immediately Asch shook his head.

"Ginji's been flying all the time, he needs his rest whenever we do land. He can't exactly guard my body if he's sleeping." He cast an almost apologetic look at the Sheridan pilot, who like always brushed it off with an understanding smile.

"Then why don't we just take it with us into Grand Chokmah?" Guy stood, folding his arms over his chest. "We can have the Malkuth army guard wherever we end up keeping it, and later on after we speak with His Majesty we can get a room at the palace for Luke and Asch to work on removing Sync's arte."

Jade smiled as he adjusted his glasses. He looked as if he were almost proud of the Gardios heir. "Why, Guy, what a capital idea. I trust that's fine with everyone else?"

There was no better idea, so naturally there were no objections. Asch insisted on carrying his body himself, as it was a burden he had brought down on everyone's heads. There was no way he was going to let just anyone cart him around. Though his replica was physically fit, his strength for heavy lifting wasn't at any sort of peak, no matter how much Asch willed himself to go on. The original's Oracle Knight gear didn't make it any easier, only adding to the weight.

But Asch would not allow anyone to set his body in the middle of a street in Grand Chokmah and dismantle his armor. People were already staring at them as they made their way through the city, quirking brows and gesturing to the odd crew that had someone carrying his unconscious twin.

"C'mon Asch, let someone help you," Lloyd said as they passed another few citizens whose heads they turned. The surly God-General hadn't wanted anyone stripping his body of its armor, but it was obvious that carrying it on his back througout the sprawling city was taking its toll. "If you keep going on like this, you're going to collapse too, and then we'd have two people to drag around."

Asch glared daggers for an expanse of about three seconds before he unceremoniously dumped his own body in Lloyd's arms. Over the dual swordsman's protests and noises of surprise, he shrugged and said, "Hey, you wanted to help, so there you go."

Lloyd's knees nearly buckled under Asch's body's weight. Good lord, Asch hadn't been lying, his armor was heavy! What did he wear underneath that ridiculously oversized mantle, plate mail? He noticed also the scabbard belted about Asch's waist was not empty as he thought it had been in Shurrey Hill. The black maestro sword inlaid with gold was still worn at his side, even when he had the Sword of Lorelei. Well, it was a good idea to have a spare weapon if something happened to the main one he used, like the Sword of Lorelei being taken into himself.

Lloyd could almost hear Asch smirking as he struggled to lift the body over his back.

"What's the matter, Lloyd? Need some help yourself?"

Anise was rolling her eyes skyward, her hands going behind her neck to unclasp her Tokunaga.

"You guys did know we could have carried him on Tokunaga, right?" Honestly! Why did no one ever think of that before they got off the Albiore?

"What, and make me look even more ridiculous than I do already?" Asch retorted, but there was a mischievious glimmer in his eye, almost like mirth. It hit Anise rather hard, that Asch was actually joking around, and _enjoying _it. Well, she always did think if you couldn't laugh at yourself … and Asch had so many opportunities to laugh at himself!

"N-no, Anise, I got it," Lloyd said as he shakily began to make his way forward, one of Asch's arms slung over his shoulders, supporting the rest of the God-General's weight with his own free arm. He staggered under the weight. "More or less."

"Here, I'll help."

Lloyd looked up with surprise as none other than Guy came forward, taking Asch's other arm. Easily as much as half the weight shifted from one to the other. Lloyd wondered, why was Guy helping him? He thought the former servant didn't trust him, that he plotted something devious. But he found he didn't mind one bit that Guy was helping him carry Asch's body as they moved throughout the streets of Grand Chokmah.

"Thanks, Guy," Lloyd said with a wide smile. He'd never had trouble making friends back at home, and though Luke's friends were harder to win over, he felt he was slowly making progress. At the very least they hadn't forcibly cast him out of their number yet. The fact that Guy chose to approach made his heart soar.

"No problem." Guy replied. With a start Lloyd noticed the light in his sapphire eyes. Instead of bitterness, it projected … regret, almost sorrow. It puzzled him somewhat. Just what did Guy have to regret so strongly? Like a lightning strike it coursed through him: he didn't know. There was so much he didn't know about Luke's friends ... and even more yet they didn't know about _him. _

Colette had always said to count your blessings instead of dwelling on past regrets. It had helped her deal with the rigors, physical and emotional, of her own journey, when ironically it wasn't she who had such a big problem with it but the ones who traveled with her. He thought silently as he and Guy carried Asch's body. What were his blessings now?

Admittedly they didn't chalk up to much here, on Auldrant. Luke counting him as a friend was one, the fact that Kratos was here evoked a mixed feeling on his part (having to fight him yet again wasn't much of a blessing), and Zelos's appearance was a definite plus. He wondered how the redheaded idiot was faring on his very own venture into a whole new world. Lloyd had dealt with it as best as he was able, with a little help from Origin.

Though they didn't amount to much, Lloyd's blessings were no less important. The one that mattered most of all was the fact he was even here, here to make a difference.

-

"Jeez, Jade, you are just full of surprises, aren't you?" Emperor Peony rose from his throne to greet his guests, all of which but for the Colonel appeared very battle and travel-worn. Azure eyes scanned the strange scene: everyone sans the Kimlascan princess filing into the audience chamber, with a brown-haired teenager he'd never seen before helping Gailardia support the body of none other than Asch the Bloody. Luke stood at the fore beside Jade, almost scowling at the Emperor. That was strange, not like Luke at all.

"Not half as many as you manage to come up with, Your Majesty," Jade replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"And what's with Asch?" Peony asked, directing his gaze at the unconscious Oracle Knight. "He's not dead, is he? That would sort of defeat the purpose of bringing him here, Gailardia."

From underneath one of Asch's arms Guy sputtered. "Th-this wasn't my fault, Your Majesty! And he isn't dead. Just knocked out. The other God-Generals attacked him and us." Beside him, Lloyd adopted a quizzical look.

"_Gailardia?" _He asked, incredulously, both eyebrows shooting straight up. "That's your real name?" He bit back a chuckle as the Sigmund swordsman turned to glare at him. "I mean, Luke said your real family name was Gardios, but I thought Guy was your actual name!"

"It's a great name!" Guy protested even as Lloyd's frame shook from the laughter he held back. "I don't see what's wrong with it."

"It's a _flower _name!"

"So?" Luke snapped with Asch's voice, and the two swordsmen looked up at him. "The Emperor's named after a flower and Jade's is the name of a jewel! I don't see the point in getting all worked up over it."

"But you don't make fun of an emperor or the Colonel!" Lloyd pointed out. "I happen to like my head on my shoulders."

"Like your name's any better," Guy shot back, but with humor in his voice. "I mean, _Lloyd? _What does that even mean?"

"Sea friend, if Professor Sage was right …"

Asch groaned, irritation made plain. The world teetered on the brink of destruction and somehow this band of idiots managed to make light of it and waste time. Well, no wonder Luke found a place here. Birds of a feather flocked together. He turned to face the Emperor, who, despite all his eccentricities, ruled well enough and could be serious when the occasion called for it.

"What did you want to speak with me about, Your Majesty?"

Peony blinked, uncomprehending. "I needed to talk to Asch, not you, Luke, though I appreciate the sentiment." Asch only glared daggers, and in an instant the monarch realized his mistake. He made a small 'o' with his mouth, glancing at Jade. "Is this another one of those weird isofon quirks?"

Smiling widely for all he was worth, Jade nodded. "I'd let Guy explain, but he is rather busy, and I think I'd rather watch you break your brain trying to figure it out."

"Ouch, Jade, you're always so cold to me …"

Asch loudly cleared his throat, drawing attention back to him. "Anyway, I can guess what you wanted to talk about: the Key of Lorelei? And the Planet Storm?"

Peony sank back onto his throne, clasping his hands together. "Yes, exactly that. We've spoken to the mayor of Yulia City, and we have evidence supporting that the Key of Lorelei can be used to stabilize the Planet Storm. I understand half of it is in your possession?"

"In a manner of speaking," Jade said softly, and his tone made the Emperor arch an eyebrow.

"When the God-Generals attacked," Asch began with a sigh, "they would've taken the Sword of Lorelei, but I used the contamination effect to take its fonons into my body. Unfortunately, they used an improvised Daathic arte on my body that prevents me from going back into my body and retrieving the Sword. So, we have it, we just can't get to it."

"Well," Peony snapped his fingers, as if over a loss at the poker table. "That makes things rather problematic, doesn't it? Is there any way to remove the arte?"

"Only the one who cast it or me and Luke can remove it." Asch replied. "Seeing how we have no idea where the God-Generals are, there's only me and Luke, but we're not sure exactly how to go about it."

At this point the Emperor seemed to take real notice of Lloyd and Guy's plight, even with both their strength staggering under the combined weight of Asch's body and the armor he wore. He wondered, did the weight of the Sword of Lorelei add to it, stored within Asch's body via the contamination effect? He rose from his throne.

"A room in the palace to keep your body would be a start." He said. He looked over to Luke, or rather, Luke's body with Asch's mind being at the fore. "Say, Luke's in there, too right? You two didn't switch bodies or anything?"

"Of course he's here!" Asch hoped that he wouldn't have to explain this everywhere he went. "If I can't get to my body, why would he able to?"

"I was just wondering," Peony said with a shrug. "Why isn't he talking? Is he still upset over being a replica?"

Asch frowned. "Somewhat." He'd been trying to tell Luke that being a replica wasn't something to ashamed of, it wasn't his fault he was born, or what Van had used him for. Being a replica was what made him unique, it was what allowed him to retain a certain purity original people lacked as they grew up, even through everything that happened.

Then Peony did something that made everyone's jaws go slack. He placed both hands on Luke's shoulders, saying rather loudly, "If they're picking on you for being a replica, you can come live here with Gailardia if you want!"

Asch swore he could hear the brains break, one by one. Lloyd blinked, uncomprehending, Jade wouldn't stop smiling, Tear had a hand covering her mouth (not that she looked appalled, exactly, it was hard to tell), Anise's face turned a very deep red, and poor Guy was about ready to collapse in on himself to die of shame. The original was debating whether or not to visit his wrath upon the Emperor when Jade swooped down as a saving grace.

"Your Majesty," He chuckled at the expression on Asch's face, "please don't make inappropriate jokes."

"Hey, I was serious." Peony took a step back as Asch pried his hands off, murder screaming in his eyes. Regaining a regal demeanor, he continued. "As for the attacks on the Malkuth army, that's not Kimlasca's doing, is it?"

"Of course not." Asch shook his head, with no doubt whatsoever. "Trying to stir up war is something Mohs would do in order to make the Score come true." He sounded as if he meant to end his statement there, but in a softer tone of voice he said, "The Score already went off track because of me."

Asch blinked, going red in the face when all eyes turned to him, confused. _'Luke, if you're going to start all that depressive nonsense again—'_

'_I'm not. I know it's not my fault, I was just thinking since it's already off track, there's no point in trying to make it come true.'_

Asch heard the doubt in the replica's voice, but chose to leave it at that. He knew better than anyone that overcoming one's demons didn't happen overnight. Luke was doing better than Asch had at any rate, taking those baby steps while the original just seethed and steeped in his own brew of hatred and agony.

"And Dist did help Mohs break out of prison," Guy supplied, taking the attention off Luke's speaking through Asch for a moment. Actually, it was Asch speaking through Luke and Luke sneaking in a sentence, but … he shook his head, he didn't need to drive himself half insane trying to figure out the technicalities.

"That does make sense, but we have no proof." Peony said, hands on his hips as he thought aloud. "General Aslan Frings is in the military wing, under treatment for his injuries, he can testify the identity of the attackers and whether or not it was in fact Kimlasca." He cast a glance at Luke. "And we can have Luke or Asch, whoever is doing the talking, inquire into the Kimlascan court later on."

Peony's earlier statement about the people in Baticul mistreating Luke for being a replica came back to Asch with full force. For a month Luke had been living in Baticul with that particular cat out of the bag. Only a handful of people saw Luke for Luke instead of the "real" Luke's replica. Looking into the memories, Asch silently felt a measure of pride for the way Luke upheld his position as a son of House Fabre as best as he was able. For his replica, a mirror and extension of himself, he expected no less.

"Sure thing." Asch said. "Where are we taking my body?" At that, the Emperor smiled deviously, and quite suddenly Asch felt that perhaps he shouldn't have asked.

"If you'll kindly come this way," Peony said, with a mischeivious glint in his eye and a musical lilt in his tone to rival Jade's. "I'll be happy to show you."

Apparently the best place to house an unconscious body holding half the key that would save the world from one man's madness was the Emperor's own room. That wouldn't have been quite so bad, Asch admitted, if only there weren't any of those damnable pets of Peony's, these rappigs that by all rights shouldn't even exist! The Emperor's room didn't look like what a ruler's bedroom should look like, a complete and total mess, courtesy of the rappigs rather than the man himself. But that was no excuse.

Glad for a chance to put their feet up, figuratively speaking, Guy and Lloyd together carefully deposited Asch's body on the Emperor's bed, looking as they moved to avoid bumping into any rappigs. Woe to the one who inadvertantly injured one of the Emperor's pets. As a matter of fact, calling them just pets wasn't enough to justify what Peony felt for them. They were his _babies. _

Asch sighed, stepping to the side as one of the rappigs ambled about the room. The name carved onto its collar caught his eye, and when he read it his breath hitched. He cast a baffled look at Jade, who merely turned so his eyes were hidden under the glare of light on his glasses. Seriously? Emperor Peony named a rappig after _Luke? _The God-General massaged his temple with the heel of a palm, trying to assauge the headache forming. It just had to be true, nearly everyone Luke had come into some sort of friendship with had the ulterior motive to drive him insane. And it was working, slowly but surely like a poison.

"Forgive my audacity, Emperor," Asch said through grit teeth, and the others had knowing smirks on their faces. Whenever Asch started using overly formal speech, he was really, really fuming. "But I do not believe Luke and I could focus on removing the arte on my body with all of your delightful little pets running around."

"Rambunctious, aren't they?" Peony said with a winning smile, either oblivious of or ignoring Asch's overly calm voice and formal speech. "My cute little Jade likes to torment poor Saphir, though. He just wants to play."

"Well," Jade interjected at Asch's quizzical expression when he heard the words "cute," "little," and "Jade," all used in the same sentence. Not to mention the "my." "You'll find a way to make it work, you two have a rather special way of surprising everybody. In the meantime, we'll go pay General Frings a visit."

"What, I'm not going?" Asch asked, but the intonation of his voice suggested a bit of Luke in the question. Understandable, the God-General thought, as Luke had at some point met the General though he was little more than an acquaintance. Jade shook his head.

"Your time is better spent undoing that arte, we have little enough of it as it is."

That was true enough. Though of course no one knew exactly how the arte was to be removed, Asch already had some ideas to work out, since he studied fonic artes in much more depth and detail than the crash courses Luke had received from Ion and the books in Daath's library. Besides, as it was his body, he knew it best and it would be easier to work from without it than within. As the others turned to leave, Asch stopped Lloyd short.

"Wait. There's something I need to return to you."

Lloyd was puzzled but he obliged. He wasn't sure which of Lorelei's isofons was speaking, it sounded like a rather strange but convincing mixture of both. Perhaps both Luke and Asch echoed the sentiment, whatever it was.

"What is it?" Then he gaped in horror as Asch drew the Vorpal Sword, the blade of Fourth Fonons shimmering a light aqua in harmony with the colors of Grand Chokmah. He shook his head as Asch flipped the sword over, holding it out to its rightful owner hilt first. Lloyd put a hand on the hilt, pushing it back. "I told you before," It didn't matter if Asch was the one talking right now, he knew Luke was listening, "I need Flamberge to fight with this sword. I don't mind if you have it until then."

"There's no need to wait until then." Asch replied, eyes narrowing. "It's not as if we're hurting for weapons, there's my maestro sword and the Sword of Lorelei whenever we do manage to extract it. Besides, your father forged this sword, right? It's obviously important to you."

Lloyd stared at the silver handle, studded with a sapphire of the deepest blue. _Now that you've grown all up, I can entrust you with the greatest sword I ever forged. _He had been so scared when he stumbled onto Fourth Monument Hill, bereft of the Material Blade. His fathers had entrusted him with those swords, and Origin with something greater that embodied both blades. He had been elated when he found Vorpal near Mt. Roneal, and let Luke use it as he lost his own weapon fighting the God-Generals. But, still, he was unsure if now was the right time to reclaim it.

Asch rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh. "Just take it already, dammit."

"Fine." Lloyd grasped the hilt, the weight strange but familiar in his hand after going for months without it. He hadn't been wanting for weapons after it was apparent the Material Blade split away from him; he had another pair of swords, the Kusanagi Blade he'd claimed as a trophy from a monster called the Sword Dancer. As soon as he touched the sword, half of Origin's immense power flooded through him, and he almost staggered backward. A soft smile came to his lips as he saw his own reflection in the smooth blade of ice. "I'm … so happy to have it back. Thanks for taking care of it, Luke."

"Yeah, yeah," Asch waved him off dismissively through the tides of … there was no other word to describe it, _fuzziness _emanating from Luke in their shared mind. Fuzziness with some warmth. "Now go on before I drop kick you all the way to Baticul!"

Lloyd laughed as he made his leave. Emperor Peony left the room as well, cheerfully telling Asch that he could take all the time he needed, and could he perhaps get to know his precious rappigs whenever he needed a break from the rigors of undoing that troublesome fonic arte? If Asch hadn't already returned the Vorpal Sword to Lloyd, he just might have flung it at Peony. He had been quite proficient at throwing weapons when he was training under the Oracle Knights in Daath.

Asch sighed, sparing his body a glance. He almost laughed at the reversal of the situation. After Akzeriuth, it was Luke who had taken refuge within Asch's body and mind, in a surreal astral experience. It had been Luke's body that had lain unconscious in Yulia City until the original shoved his mind back where it belonged. Now it was Asch's body lying on that bed, his consciousness that took refuge in Luke's body and mind. He pulled off the grey scarf, flinging it on a nearby chair, the blue coat soon to follow; it was warm in Grand Chokmah.

"Man, blue is not our color," Asch said with a chuckle, eyeing the clothing draped over the back of the chair. Irritation rolled off Luke's mind.

'_Then what is our color?'_

"Black and red are mine," Asch replied, thinking of his God-General mantle. "But for you … I'd have to say black and gold. It'd make a nice contrast, brighter."

'_Is that what you think of me? Brighter?' _The irritation melted to give way to amusement. Asch scoffed.

"Of course not in the academic sense. Your fonic artes have nothing on mine!"

He could almost feel his own lips pull downward in Luke's frown. _'But you haven't seen me use fonic artes yet. That's kind of unfair.'_

"Clumsy dreck is clumsy," Asch gave a small laugh. Unlike before, Luke wasn't bothered when Asch called him dreck; it became something of a nickname when it lacked the malice with which the original used to speak. The God-General turned to his body on the bed, leaning over it. "All right, enough playing around. Let's get to work."

Though both were adept at handling the Seventh Fonon, Asch had finer control, and precision was what they needed to erase the patterns Sync had impressed on top of Asch's fon slots. So Luke let Asch retain control of their vessel as his hands laid over Asch's body, hovering with barely inches from direct contact. As he bent over his own form, a star sapphire pendant set in gold hung from his neck, glinting in the afternoon sunlight flooding through the arch windows. Asch blinked at it in the midst of gathering Seventh Fonons.

He couldn't speak aloud when working with something as dangerous as a hyperresonance (even if it was only a very small one intended to erase Sync's arte), so he thought.

'_Tear's pendant?' _He'd briefly glimpsed the part of Luke's memory when Van's sister had given it to him before he'd returned to the manor in Baticul. It was a memento of their late mother who died shortly after Hod's fall and giving birth to Tear.

'_Yeah. I keep trying to give it back to her, but she just won't let me.'_

'_Idiot. It just means she trusts you, and a great deal with something so important to her.'_

'_Oh … really?'_

Asch rolled his eyes, a golden glow forming between his hands. _'Yes, really. Now help me out here. Jade said there was a difference in how you and I form and use hyperresonances. I have the control, but you have the power, so you're going to have give mine a slight boost to erase Sync's arte. Not too much! I'd rather not have my fon slots damaged.'_

'_O-okay. Tell me if I screw something up, all right?'_

'_Tch, believe me, you _will _know it.'_

Asch had to grudgingly admit that Sync was nothing short of stunningly brilliant in his improvisation. Unlike Guy's Curse Slot which was applied to only one area that contained a fon slot, this one was applied to the slots on Asch's entire body. The exact patterns weren't visible on his skin until the glow of hyperresonance bathed it in yellow light, throwing the parts of Asch's exposed skin in tiny, fine, intricate patterns with many swirls and curves. Asch groaned. They were going to have to erase all of _that?_

'_Dammit. How the hell did Sync manage something like that in a split second?'_

'… _Y'know, if it was applied to every fon slot you have, you are aware you're going to have to remove your clothes at some point?'_

Asch went red in the face at the comment. What the hell?! Luke was right, of course, but … _'I know that, shut up! You are seven years old, don't be talking like that!'_

'_Like what? Are you thinking something weird?'_

'_Focus, Luke, focus on the damn arte!'_

Asch traced a finger over his face, using the miniscule hyperresonance to begin to arduous task of slowly, ever so slowly erasing the patterns that looked like a very strange tattoo. Within minutes of prolonged use of Seventh Fonon interference, he was feeling the fatigue building up, and it was made doubly worse by the fact if not physical, Luke's mental fatigue stacked right on top of Asch's. They were tiring quickly, far too quickly they would have liked for the near unnoticable progress they were making so far.

Asch hoped to high heaven and deep sea that this was the only part of the pattern that was so damn small and overly intricate, like extremely fine print. It would make sense as the two most powerful fon slots, internal and external, were the eyes and brain. He paled at the prospect; even for the unearthly power over fonons Sync had, he should only have been able to impress his arte on the external fon slots. To do so to the internal ones was a physical impossibility!

About a fourth of the pattern imprinted on Asch's forehead had been erased before he slumped over his rightful self, in Luke's form, the weariness crashing down on them with the force of a Blessed Drops arte. He panted for breath, sweat beading on his forehead, vision swimming. How many minutes had they spent undoing just that one portion of the pattern? Not for very long, not even tweleve minutes, and yet the fatigue hit them so hard. Asch fought to stay conscious, threading fingers through Luke's short hair.

'_Dammit. I can see why Sync would decide to make our lives as difficult as possible with this, even if it takes him just as long or longer to remove it, he would have had the time should Van's plans succeed. We don't have that kind of time …'_

Luke shifted uncomfortably in their mind at the mention of Sync's name yet again. _'Can we please not talk about Sync?' _

Their vision focused, and underneath Luke's gloves Asch could see the edges of darkened, ragged flesh, the scars left over from the iron chains. Asch took in a deep breath. _'Can't keep walking on eggshells about it forever. Besides, there's … something you should understand about Sync that might let you see at least a little why he did what he did.'_

He'd considered letting Luke live in ignorance on this topic. Ignorance was bliss, but ignorance was also what led Luke to Akzeriuth. It would be easier to let Luke live on hating and despising Sync for what he did, and he was entirely justified for it. But in many ways the two were similar, and Luke just had to see it. Asch couldn't let Luke end up like him, becoming rotten in his own agony.

Slowly, as they rested, he let the memories play in their mind.

-

Grand Chokmah was a beautiful city, Lloyd couldn't help but think as he walked with the others to the military wing of the palace. Though Guy had lived on Hod, Lloyd thought the capital resembled him so much more, calm and smooth on the surface, yet a great current of power residing underneath. He'd fallen into step beside the blond swordsman on the walk through the palace courtyard, sunshine falling down in molten gold, the roars of waterfalls echoing abound.

"Hey, Guy."

"Hm? What is it?"

Lloyd wondered how to approach this topic. He by nature was blunt and straightforward, while Guy seemed more subtle. Well, there was no other way to bring it up, he wasn't that great with tact.

"Just why is it you freaked out so much when I had to use my wings? I mean, I know wings aren't normal, but …" He swallowed as a pained look came upon Guy's face. "It just hurt, what you said."

There was a short moment of silence before Guy spoke. "I know. And I know it was completely uncalled for. You _did _save Luke and the Outer Lands by flying down there." Lloyd knew it was no lie, he saw real regret in those azure eyes, real, raw, burning sorrow. "I was just … afraid. Once upon a time there was a pair of friends who swore to avenge themselves for irrevocable losses suffered at others' hands. To that end they worked closely with their enemies, with every intent to betray and hurt them as they had been hurt.

"I know how easily someone could get close to a person, wrap them around their finger, and brutally end that person's life. I was afraid you were planning to do something of the sort to Luke, use him like Van had."

"I—" That rendered Lloyd completely speechless. Not to mention confused, but the pain, regret, and sorrow rang true in Guy's eyes and voice, and he had no wish to agonize anyone further than he already had. He'd never thought of it that way, that the others might see him with ulterior motives of his own, with Luke being central to those plans. Well, in a way it was true, he was helping Luke as a means of doing whatever it was Origin wanted him to do, with the goal of eventually returning home.

"I'm not sure about the word _use," _Lloyd said carefully, "but I didn't help Luke just out of my own charity. Like I said before, Lorelei told me to, but Lorelei doesn't want Luke dead. It said that I had the will and power to save Luke and Asch."

Guy raised an eyebrow at the statement. He knew Lloyd wasn't lying, he of all people knew what it was like to lie flawlessly, and saw none of that malice in Lloyd. The boy was too good-natured, too honest, too trusting. Naïve in a way similar but not exactly like Luke himself. "I can get why Lorelei would talk about saving Luke," Guy said, thinking back on the God-General's kidnapping, "but saving Asch? From what?" Right now the only peril Asch was in was being unable to return to his own body, but that only happened just now, and it sounded like Lloyd had this meeting with Lorelei quite a while ago.

Guy didn't get a chance to ask Lloyd further on his obscure meeting with Lorelei (though he had a few ideas, like Lorelei contacting Lloyd as he had jumped into the core to save Luke under the Absorption Gate), as they arrived in the military wing of the Grand Chokmah palace. Jade led the way through the complex, fitting as he was of the military. The Malkuth capital became a fortress in wartime, and as such it had a large medical ward to accommodate wounded soldiers.

It was freakishly like Belkend in its sterliized cleanliness and plainness. It was devoid of true life, trauma and the memories of war echoing in its innocent surroundings. The place where hope died, even if the wounded did recover physically. The wards were filling up as more injured soldiers from around Chesedonia arrived courtesy of Noelle and her Albiore, some men with small hurts, others gravely wounded, and some were already dead before they were even brought to bed. Guy grimaced as Jade found the ward where General Frings was being tended to. Lloyd did not look well when he drank in the sights, and had almost been physically sick when they passed some healers transporting a poor bastard that had been run over by a landship. More than anyone else here, more than was probably healthy, Lloyd abhorred the loss of life.

"General Frings," Jade said, inclining his head respectfully. The General, to everyone's surprise, sat upright on the hospital bed instead of lying down, and was very visibly straining himself to do so. He looked up at Jade, turquoise eyes narrowed in extreme pain.

"Colonel Curtiss. I-I assume you're here to question me?"

"Indeed I am, if you are feeling up to it. However, we are rather pressed for time." A small grin, empty of any amusement, stretched across his face. "No pressure."

That coaxed a strangled laugh out of the General. "We were attacked while doing routine training exercises. It was a small strike force, carrying the banner of the Kimlascan Royal Forces."

"No way …" Anise said softly.

"They took out our flank with Fifth Fonon suicide bombers, and the majority of them were poorly equipped."

"That's not the sort of tactic a national military would use," Tear noted with an icy edge to her voice. Honestly, _suicide bombers? _Natalia would be ready to brutally murder someone if she heard that. If she were even to declare and wage war on Malkuth, she wouldn't condone such cowardly tactics. Not to mention she wouldn't turn out her troops with little to no equipment. To Natalia, her people, civilian and army, were like family.

Frings nodded. "I do not believe it was an act of Kimlasca. Th-the soldiers … their eyes were like those of the dead …" He clutched at his chest, cold sweat rolling off his brow, heaving violent coughs.

"General! You need to lie down." Tear said, taking a step toward the bed. Frings shuddered, shaking his head.

"I-if I lie down now, I'll never open my eyes again."

" … What about the military healers?"

"Th-they said it was too late … I was holding on hoping there was someone I could relay the identity of the attackers to …"

Guy felt a painful wrench of his heart. Though he and Frings were never close, they had come across one another working for the Emperor in service to Malkuth, and they understood one another. Not as soldier to soldier, Guy would never be cut out for the rigors of army life even though he could fight when called for, but as one person to another who worked hard for the salvation of not only Malkuth, but every single person the world over. It hurt, knowing his comrade was doomed, seeing it happen before his very eyes.

Lloyd stared, a hard look in his eye. He was unnaturally still, in the way he did when he wanted nothing more to tense up more than he was supposed to, more than was healthy, but forced himself to remain calm, outwardly if not inwardly. Abruptly Jade's words in the Absorption Gate rang in Guy's ears.

_Saving the world and the people right in front of us aren't exclusive of one another._

Like a shockwave, everyone there sans Frings knew what Lloyd was going to do. "Lloyd …" He said with an odd tone of warning in his voice. He didn't disagree with Lloyd, it was always terrible to lose lives when it could have been avoided—like Akzeriuth, Hod, the war on the Rugnica Plains, those who died in St. Binah's collapse—but it was nothing short of cruel for Lloyd to try his damnedest to save someone who was already doomed. Even if Lloyd were somehow a better healer than the Seventh Fonists of the Malkuth military, he would be doing little more than dressing up Frings' body for the funeral.

"General Frings, lie down." Lloyd said, with a hard edge verging on command. Frings gave a weak smirk, but he saw that Lloyd was young, and too young for hope to die within him. Even if it were false hope, perhaps the General saw it was hope nonetheless and would like to give it if it were the last thing he did. And if the way he was on the brink of collapse, it just might be. He moved carefully so as not to further aggravate his wounds, lying back on the hospital bed. Lloyd went to the bedside, leaning over the ailing General. He clasped the soldier's hand in his own, the soft light of healing artes washing over them.

Frings' features eased as the wash of Seventh Fonons dulled the pain. It felt like he was floating, first in a breeze, then along a calm stream, cool, soothing, balm for the soul as much as the body. A single tear fell, rolling down his face as he murmured, the whisper barely audible. "A world without the Score … so frightening … but so free …" Lloyd grasped his hand a little harder, the white-green glow of healing artes growing stronger. "Yulia," Frings sighed, "bring happiness to this world that veered from the Score … and to her …"

"Shut up!" Lloyd growled as Frings' eyes fell shut, features still, in perfect peace. "You _will_ see her again, I'll make it so!" The amount of Seventh Fonons he was shaping into artes was obvious even to Guy, who had only a small ability to work it, in a support arte called Center. It truth, it was a little frightening. He'd never felt so many Seventh Fonons in one place at once, even when Asch and Luke had been using their hyperresonance to command the passage rings. Lloyd's voice was nearly cracking with the effort of his healing.

"Y-you're the only one who can make her happy--!"

Guy's eyes wandered. He didn't want to watch this, a tragedy already happening and made worse. But nor could he bring himself to completely avert his eyes, doing so wouldn't make a difference. He was seeing the death of innocence again, the first time it had been Luke at Akzeriuth. This time it was Lloyd, trying to heal someone that couldn't be saved. It twisted his heart to watch that impossibly pure view of the world sullied, like dirty snow. The fact he would see it not once, but twice nearly made him physically ill.

Why was everyone else letting Lloyd persist with this folly? Guy would have thought at least Jade would take the initiative, but perhaps the Colonel didn't want Frings to die, either. He could see it, Jade always had a great deal of respect for soldiers like himself, though the Colonel also knew when it was futile to hope. Had Jade changed so much? But then Guy saw why Jade was letting Lloyd continue with his overflow of healing artes: those crimson eyes were fixed on the third sword belted about Lloyd's waist, the boy's Vorpal Sword. The silvery hilt studded with gems of deep blue was gaining an unearthly glow of its own.

It was almost as if it were responding to Lloyd's healing artes, strengthening them beyond what was supposed to be possible for any Seventh Fonist, not just one of Lloyd's humble ability. Then, as if the Sigmund swordsman's thoughts signaled like a radio broadcast, Lloyd looked up, his wine red eyes locking with Tear's teal ones.

"Tear, help me!" He breathed, his voice small as he begged, pleaded. There was no one else around to help him in his futile endeavor, and Tear's artes held more power than that of the average Seventh Fonist. She had something no one else did: Yulia's hymns, which were as strong, if not more so, than standard artes.

Tear could be cold and cruel when the situation called for it, the perfect soldier that always knew what to do and how to go about it. This was the woman that ruthlessly impressed onto Luke just what it meant to kill another person, that forced him to see just what had happened at Akzeriuth, the same one who refused to cry because it wouldn't change anything. It was unsettling, how Lloyd gazed at her in reverence as he would at a vindictive goddess who decided who lived and who died on a whim. And, Guy thought as he saw Tear struggling to make a decision, it wasn't that far from the truth. Whether Frings lived or died depended entirely on Tear's willingness—or lack thereof—to lend Lloyd her strength.

Finally, after a paralyzing wait of tense anxiety, the melodist wordlessly went to Lloyd's side. He took Tear's hand, too, placing it over Frings', their own wish and hope for the man to live. Aided by the already great and growing swath of Seventh Fonons swirling over Frings, Tear took in a deep breath, and began to sing.

"_Va Neu Zeu Rei, Rei Toue Ryou Toue Kuroa, Ryou Rei Kuroa Ryou Zue, Neu Va Zue Rei …"_

Perhaps it was fitting, Guy thought as he watched the healing hymns take shape, overlapping Lloyd's artes in a myriad, incandescent display of light ranging from white, to green, to blue. The magnificent song of angels, the healing melody of divine mercy helping a true angel make a difference. He wasn't sure if he imagined it in the brilliant, nearly blinding light of the healing trance, the hymns echoing throughout the building, but he saw on Frings' bed feathers, iridescent, translucent, crystalline, glimmering like a jewel.

--

A/N: This would've been much longer but I figure going from three to four thousand to eight thousand words per chapter was long enough haha. I don't want you guys to burn your eyes out xD Also, I love the idea of Tear as a goddess and Lloyd her angel. I do. I really do :D


	46. An Illness, a Cure, and a Zealous Smile

A/N: Beginning of this chapter is a combination of people wanting to see more of a certain idiot Chosen, and something else I've been wondering about Lloyd that was never addressed to the extent of my knowledge.

--

Lloyd Irving wasn't an experienced healer. He'd been a practicing Seventh Fonist for less than a year, and though he'd received heavy, intense training from both Fon Master Ion and Luke (who admittedly didn't use the Seventh Fonon to heal other than using Guardian Field) in channeling the Seventh Fonon in a capacity that could heal injuries, he'd never had to pour _so much _of himself, _so wholly, _into the body of a single person, someone he didn't even know. He'd never had a true healing trance, though he'd seen others perform one. Regal had always looked still as stone, Raine made it look effortless, and whenever Zelos or even Kratos had to induce a healing trance they had looked so calm, relaxed, and peaceful … now Lloyd knew better.

A healing trance, a true one, was not effortless, nor was it relaxing, calming, or peaceful. To others it appeared that way, the way he grasped Tear's hand, his other hand pressed against the chest of the dying soldier on the bed before him, their eyes closed as Lloyd's healing artes glowed and Tear's hymns echoed boundlessly. These healing artes were still new, and had been a clumsy imitation of Kratos and Zelos's Healing Wind and Stream, the way he in the heat of the moment had taken Seventh Fonons and sent them on the wings of Third ones or flowing along the Fourth. The fact he was using _both _healing artes at once—something he wasn't sure even Professor Sage could do—certainly was not helping his fatigue, even with Tear singing Holy Song and Revitalize in an endless loop.

The artes were sapping his strength, as if he were taking his own life and pouring it, breathing it, into General Frings' dying body. He had no idea why he was risking so much for a complete stranger. But hadn't it been the same for Luke? Not just Luke, but many others he'd encountered on his own journey, his ex-enemy Sheena Fujibayashi being foremost of them. He began to feel lightheaded, the feel of Tear's hand in his own burning his skin, even through the cloth of their gloves. Burning, searing, a cold hand siezing his heart, constricting his lungs, making it hard to breathe … if this what a healing trance was like, even with extrordinary help, half of the Eternal Sword not the least of it, he didn't understand how Professor Sage could do it. She had done it so many times, even on people she knew were doomed.

He opened his eyes, looking down at the body of General Frings. The light he was bathed in was almost blinding, ranging from soft blue to green to white, edged in gold courtesy of Tear's fonic hymns. He saw his hand, clasping Tear's, pressed against the General's aqua blue uniform. His vision was uneven, blurring, shaking, the acute pain in his head amplifying. He watched the flow of Seventh Fonons shaping the healing artes leak away, as if he were watching his own blood pouring. Dimly he remembered Professor Sage and even Ion saying that if healers weren't careful enough, they drove themselves to the brink of illness—death, even—by overexerting themselves pouring healing artes into someone else.

Lloyd didn't want to die. He better than anyone knew that death was merely a means of running away from one's problems, from their responsibilities. He still had things to do, things bigger and far more important than the life of a soldier who would have died in action, serving his country, the death of a warrior. Kratos once told him that there was no shame in a warrior's death. But … that didn't mean he could just let this man die! He'd seen too many people die, helpless to do anything even as they died right before his eyes. Whether his being a Seventh Fonist was an Origin-given power or what he would have been had he been born on Auldrant, Lloyd knew that _finally, _after being able to only cut down what was before him, he could directly intervene at the source and _save lives. _

But he also knew that even with Tear's hymns, he himself was fading fast, and through his increasingly blurred and rickety vision he couldn't really tell if Frings' condition was improving. Even with Tear's hymns, even with half the power of the Eternal Sword … was he truly any better than military healers who were trained in their artes for years, perhaps all their lives? His hands were shaking. His breath became short, ragged, and cold sweat beaded on his brow.

"Lloyd, stop."

Tear was still singing, so it wasn't her. It didn't sound like Anise, the voice was older, deeper like a man's. It could be either Jade or Guy, maybe Luke or Asch if they were here. All Lloyd knew was that he didn't want to give up in any capacity until he was sure that either Frings would recover … or Frings would die. But he was shaking so badly, he felt light-headed, and the headache was getting worse with each passing second …

A hand grasped his shoulder, gently at first, then tightening in an almost painful clench.

"Lloyd Irving. Stop. _Now."_

By then he knew it was Jade's voice, Jade's hand nearly squeezing the feeling from his shoulder. But it wasn't just his shoulder, the rest of his body had a strange tingling sensation that preceded an almost _numbing _feeling—

"Tear, first hymn on Lloyd, now! If he doesn't quit this instant, he might well die!"

The transition from continuous healing hymns to to an attack one was smooth, as if it had been part of the performance all along. The only difference was the abrupt cut of Tear's Seventh Fonons from flowing into Frings' body, and the unearthly light of healing artes faded, giving way to the dark colors of the First Fonon as she sang a new song.

"_Toue Rei Zue, Kuroa Ryou Toue Zue,"_

When Guy first heard the hymn Nightmare, he'd always assumed that it would affect everyone in the vicinity, making it risky to use as a supporting arte in battle. But he'd noticed that as the melodist sang, she would direct the First Fonons to her target, layering them on the Seventh Fonons existing on or around them in order to induce sleep. Putting Lloyd to sleep appeared to be absurdly easy, even for Tear; she looked surprised at how quickly the dual swordsman collapsed backward, the flow of his healing artes dammed off from his own body. Jade had caught Lloyd when he fell to the hymn, but he had a bent frown on his face.

"Guy, help an old man out, would you?"

Guy complied, approaching them, expecting more of the Colonel's jabs about his old age even as he knelt to support Lloyd's weight. But the Necromancer made no such jokes, nor did that wide smile ever manifest on his face. He was stony, completely serious even for the situation at hand. Those crimson eyes were hidden on the glare of his glasses, but Guy could tell the fonist's gaze was fixed to Lloyd. Why so suspicious? He knew why. He stole a glance at General Frings' bed—the soldier was breathing easily, a healthy glow to his previously appallingly pale skin. Tear gave gave a brieft examination—as a Seventh Fonist she had been trained in such things—and nodded.

"He'll live."

"Oh, thank goodness," Anise sighed, pressing a nervous hand to her forehead. She clapped her hands together, doing something of a small happy dance. "It would seriously suck if he just kicked the bucket, right before he was supposed to get married, too! But man, isn't Lloyd amazing?! Even the military healers said it was impossible!"

"Tear did help him out with her hymns," Guy replied, slinging one of Lloyd's arms over his shoulders, slowly standing as he supported the extra weight. The brunette swordsman needed a bed, his face was flushed with fever, beaded with cold sweat, and his breathing was ragged, shallow, and uneven. "Lloyd needs a place to rest; he exhausted himself."

Immediately Jade took the initiative, seemingly sweeping Guy and Lloyd out of Frings's ward in search of an empty one, though what with the victims from Frings's unit still pouring in, it would be a trying task. Lloyd was no soldier of Malkuth, but his health was questionable and in danger, same as any of the wounded constantly funneled in and out of the building.

"Seriously," Anise's honey brown eyes drifted to look at the floor, "aren't you glad he'll live, Tear?"

Tear was silent for a time, staring down at the miracle personified that was General Frings. When Anise looked closer, she realized that the melodist wasn't looking just at the slumbering soldier, she was staring in the palm of her right hand, the one Lloyd had clasped when she began to sing her fonic hymns to help heal. The former Fon Master Guardian tilted her head to one side, curious.

"Do you feel all right?" It seemed people liked to collapse on them left, right, and center lately, the last thing they needed was Tear to follow suit. Well, if that happened, there was at least Tokunaga to help carry her. But Tear did not look on the verge of collapse.

"Y-yes, actually. Better than I have in months. Much better."

Anise blinked, eyes wide in surprise. "You mean your miasma isn't bothering you anymore?"

Tear nodded, just as astonished. "I feel like I did before I began operating the passage rings. I feel … healthy. _Normal."_

"Wow!" Anise held her face in her excitement. Sure, it was true that Lloyd had been a suspicious character, but everything he'd ever done he did in order to help Luke and by extension the whole of Auldrant, one way or another, no matter how you sliced it. First he broke Luke out of Daath, when they had no idea the God-Generals were holding him in the most obvious place possible, then he helped Luke operate passage rings, taking the strain off Tear, he also had those _big beautiful _wings that shone like a jewel—who the hell wouldn't want to fly like that?—and on top of saving Frings when the military healers deemed it impossible, he just _cured Tear of her miasma. _

In the books of Anise Tatlin, Lloyd Irving was officially Cool For Life. He was handsome enough, too. Oh, if only he were rich~

"But," Tear's brow was knit with worry, her turquoise eyes narrowed. "That shouldn't be possible. Conventional healing artes wouldn't be able to do anything like this, the fonons were contaminated … I suppose it might be possible to cleanse contaminated fonons, but something so precise on such a large scale … how in the world—"

"Oh, Tear, stop fussing!" Anise interjected with a musical lilt in her voice to rival the Colonel's. "So much crap has been happening we have to be glad for what little good comes out of it! Just be glad that Frings is alive, that you're not sick anymore … just be glad." She knew better than anyone to enjoy what good times there were, to enjoy what she had. She might not have it for much longer.

A flush ghosted across Tear's face. Her hand fell to her side, and she gave one last look at Frings, nodding. "I guess you're right … there's no point in worrying about it." She had expected to remain ill with the miasma for the rest of her life, and whether Lloyd had intended it or not, she had been cured. _Cured. _Few people had that second chance.

But, as with operating the passage rings to lower the land, everything came at a price.

-

With the Colonel's unholy luck, they had found an empty ward in which to deposit an unconscious Lloyd. He managed to pull aside at least one military Seventh Fonist, but as the medical wing was exploding with patients that needed immediate attention, the healer could only perform a rather brief examination. He'd pronounced Lloyd in no imminent danger and scurried off afterwards to patients who were dying at that moment. Once the current influx of wounded were dealt with, there would be more time to set aside for the impromptu patient.

Jade still had that steely gaze fixed on Lloyd, and Guy was beginning to be unnerved by it.

"Wouldn't Tear be able to help him? She is a military healer, too," He offered, though the melodist must also be tired from constantly singing her hymns. Tear, however, had not looked as if she were about to fall over, unlike Lloyd had.

Jade shook his head, the light bending harshly off his glasses. "This isn't something Tear would be able to help. Lloyd needs medical attention, a doctor as well as a military healer."

Guy quirked a brow. "Just from overusing his healing artes?"

The Colonel's glasses were slipping, he pushed them into place. He had a heavy frown. "It may have been … but no … that would be too cruel …" He fell silent, and that frightened Guy. Jade only clammed up on matters of grave importance, as he had when they found the fomicry machine in Choral Castle, as he had when they encountered Legretta on Deo Pass, as he was doing now. What could make even Jade, flippant, unflappable Jade, reluctant to say anything at all?

"What is it, Jade?" The Gardios heir frowned, he didn't like it when secrets were kept from him. Granted, he wasn't one to talk, but even he learned to share things on that level of importance. There was still that guilt that gnawed at him, of he himself proclaiming to trust Lloyd not just as a person, but as a friend. He'd shunned Lloyd, pushed him away for what he was, and right when they were just beginning to pick up the pieces, if something were to happen to Lloyd now …

It would be too cruel.

"In any case, a doctor would need to confirm it. I don't want to speculate when I might be wrong."

That almost made Guy snort, when, really, was Jade _ever _wrong? Chances were whatever was going on was almost exactly like the Colonel would think, he was just too damn smart. Too smart for his own good.

"He'll live, right?" Guy asked in a low, dark, voice. It was something he used to believe in, one life for another. But for something not born of malice, of Lloyd's pure desire to save someone, that idea of trading one life for another was wrong. Lloyd wanted to save Frings, not let him die, why should he pay such a hefty price for something like that?

Jade nodded, though Guy couldn't see the soldier's face as it was turned away. "As far as I can tell, yes."

The Sigmund swordsman heaved a sigh he hadn't realized he was holding. Truly, one never realized what he had until it was gone, or close to gone. And really, Guy needed all the friends he could get.

-

"Hey, Bud. Wake up."

Lloyd groaned, teeth grit to the point of generating sparks. This was not one of his usual just-five-more-minutes-professor kind of groans. He wasn't protesting the lack of sleep, not so much as protesting the sheer amount of blinding pain flaring up and down every nerve in his body. He couldn't even lift an arm; his limbs felt like heavy chunks of lead. Something was pounding on his skull constantly with a hammer. Cold sweat beaded his brow and his vision was blurry. He couldn't take deep breaths, and his heart had erratic beats and his chest felt constricted.

"Whoa, easy there, tiger. Wouldn't want to overdo it, now would you? You need your medicine."

Slowly, painfully, Lloyd turned his head to look to his right. Standing at his bedside was a familiar face he never expected to see here of all places, assuming—he scanned with his eyes—yes, he was still in the medical ward of Grand Chokmah's military wing. He gave a weak smile.

"What're you doing here, Zelos?"

The redhead's face fell at the question. He touched a hand to his forehead, giving a deep and dramatic sigh. "Does the Great Zelos need a reason to check up on his friends? While you were killing yourself performing miracles, I've been doing some actual work."

That made Lloyd laugh, even though he cringed as he did. "For once."

Bright azure eyes narrowed, his frown slanting. "And it wasn't easy, Bud! Geez, you really like taking on the impossible."

"That's because it usually isn't _impossible, _there's always a way, somewhere." Lloyd tried lifting himself up, and failed spectacularly. Just how he had driven himself to the point of collapse, and he couldn't even sit up anymore? Even when Colette had her illnesses, she at least had been able to get up and about, and that was part of the reason he'd never noticed anything wrong until a critical moment. He tried to laugh it off. "Hey, Zelos, looks like you're gonna have to help me take my medicine …"

To which the Great Zelos cringed. "You better at least be able to swallow on your own—"

"Of course I can swallow! Just gimme the damn pill before I do something drastic."

Zelos rolled his eyes, but reached for a glass of water and the bottle of medicine anyway. "Like what, gnash your teeth?"

"Viciously."

"Ohh, I'm so scared!"

"You did say the pretty boys died young."

"Then by all rights you should have died a long time ago."

"Zelos!"

"Okay, okay, no need to get jumpy. Here ya go."

Lloyd at least was able to sit up just enough to sip the water and get the medicine down, though he fell back rather quickly. He supposed he was just going to have to wait for the medicine to take effect before he could do anything again. Suddenly he worried: was he going to be able to travel, to fight? How had he gotten so sick, anyway? There was the miasma within his body, but Tear said as long as he wasn't exposed to more miasma … his heart stopped.

Zelos's countenance became solemn, serious as he studied his friend.

"So I take it you understand what happened back there?"

"What, and you do?" Lloyd shot back, irritated.

"Granted, I've only been here for a month or two, give or take," Zelos replied nonchalantly. "But I learned as much as I could in that time, and more from those letters you wrote me. According to the laws of this world, like fonons attract. I guess you were so wrapped up in using strong enough healing artes to save that Frings dude you accidentally pulled in Tear's contaminated Seventh Fonons into yourself."

Even if Lloyd didn't want to admit it, it was probably true. Zelos was not stupid, for all his carefree, laid back attitude and despite his having been on Auldrant for a shorter time than Lloyd had been, the Chosen was probably right. It made sense, he had been making direct contact with Tear, one of her fon slots no doubt. The Vorpal Sword, half of the Eternal Sword, was helping him draw in more and more Seventh Fonons, he wanted to have enough to save Frings. And that in turn led him to inadvertantly drawing in the poisoned fonons in Tear's body to his own.

So now he had twice the miasma he had before. Well, it wasn't as if he were going to keel over at any time, he could probably cure himself for good and all if he had the complete Eternal Sword. It was powerful enough to move entire planets, surely removing the contaminated Seventh Fonons within him or cleansing them would be ridiculously easy. He would try it with Vorpal, but with only half the power, something could go terribly wrong.

Lloyd wasn't going to make any more mistakes.

"Well, whatever. I'll live, and they'll live. That has to be good enough."

Zelos stared at him in silence, astonished. He let out a low whistle. "Damn, Lloyd. I could never think like that. I'd be just about pissing myself right about now if I were in your shoes."

Lloyd snorted. "Thanks for that enlightening comment."

"Haha, no problem. But seriously, though, you're amazing."

"Speaking of seriousness," Lloyd sighed, pressing a hand to his aching forehead. The medicine was taking its effect, dulling the pain. "Did you find any leads on Kratos? Where he's hiding, what he's doing, anything?" If worse came to worse, it was the sword he carried that was important. Lloyd knew that in his head, but he wouldn't ever say it, not aloud. After all the trouble he went through to save Kratos back home, for him to just die now was inexcusable.

"Actually," Zelos replied softly, "I did find some leads. Not sure what he's doing, though, it looks like he's just hiding."

"Just hiding? Is he helping Van and the other God-Generals make a replica world?"

"As far as I can tell, no. The chick he escaped from your friends with, Cantabile? Seems like she's pretty conflicted too."

Lloyd heaved a sigh. This was all so frustrating and complicated! "Do you know why Kratos at least is hiding? Did he get his memory back?"

Zelos folded his arms, sapphire eyes narrowed and his frown bent. "Seems like it when he talked to me face to face a couple days ago. He didn't have Flamberge on him, though, so there wasn't any point in forcing a fight. He remembers enough to at least know why the two swords are so important."

"Dammit, Kratos," Lloyd pinched the bridge of his nose, angry. "Why do you have to make everything so damn difficult? Why can't you just—why can't you just—why can't you just _trust _me?" He gave a frustrated groan. It was always an issue of trust with Kratos, not that the man couldn't trust Lloyd as a person, but as someone that shouldered the responsibility of doing what needed to be done. That's what it had always been about. Could he trust Lloyd to defeat him in battle, could he trust Lloyd to make a rational decision, could he trust Lloyd with the Eternal Sword?

Hell, if vertiable gods like Origin and Lorelei trusted Lloyd, why shouldn't Kratos?

"What did he say, and where did you meet him?" Even if Kratos weren't actively working with the God-Generals and Van anymore, he was still vitally important to Lloyd, in more ways than one.

"On the Rugnican side of Rotelro Bridge. He said to be careful, and not to make any mistakes."

That sounded like Kratos. But it made Lloyd wonder, just how much of his memories had he recovered? Four thousand years made for an impossibly long life, an unknowable number of memories, old and new. Perhaps his holding half of the Eternal Sword, even though he had no bond with it as Lloyd did, served to help him through it. Yet, what could Kratos mean by not making any more mistakes? He knew he was going about this the right way, sticking by Luke's side and eventually he could help him do what Lorelei wanted, to be free. Now that Lorelei was moved from the planet's core to the body of Van Grants, it made things rather simple in Lloyd's mind: take down Van, and Lorelei went free.

Except like finding Kratos, finding Van was as easy as picking out a particular fonon in a swirling mass of fonons exactly like it.

"So, how did these guys react to your wings?" Zelos asked curiously, snapping Lloyd out of his thoughts.

"Well, some took it better than others." Guy had flipped out, whereas Anise had fawned over them. The only one of Luke's friends that didn't know about Lloyd's wings was Natalia, and he was trying to think of a way to tell her, too—he was keeping secrets enough, and it wouldn't be fair to leave her in the dark. He wondered what she would say; they hadn't known one another long.

"About your wings, Lloyd … I'unno if you should keep using them."

Lloyd quirked a brow at Zelos's tone of voice. It was completely serious, almost grave. Zelos was never _grave. _Sure, there were times when even the idiot Chosen could stop cracking jokes for just one second, but nothing like he was acting now.

"Why not? If I hadn't, the world would have collapsed."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that. But have you ever thought about what your Exsphere—Cruxis Crystal now, I guess—would do to you? It's something no one's ever seen before. The Four Seraphim, even me, and Colette, too, we all had to go through the same thing to become angels."

Silence fell, deafening. Lloyd had always thought that Cruxis had somehow engineered the Cruxis Crystals so the Chosen who wore them would slowly lose what made them human, granted them power, yes, but at the cost one's soul. It was rather convenient that a Cruxis Crystal's parasitism would render the victim as an open vessel to another consciousness, it fit with Mithos's goal of resurrecting Martel perfectly. He'd never thought that _all _Cruxis Crytals were like that. And if his Exsphere had in fact become a Cruxis Crystal …

What would happen to him?

Lloyd furrowed his brow, worried. "Well, if it counts for anything, I haven't lost my apetite, I can still sleep, feel pain, and … talk, obviously. I can fly around just fine, why should we worry about it?"

Zelos heaved a sigh, threading his fingers through his long red hair. "Tch, typical Lloyd thinking. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. But still, there's no way your Exsphere _should _have changed into a Cruxis Crystal. In fact, you should know more about it than I do."

Though the technology of cresting Exspheres and Cruxis Crystals was dwarven, and Lloyd was raised by a dwarf, he didn't claim to know everything about them. However, based on what he'd learned from Kate in Sybak, the use of a special Key Crest to delay the Exsphere's parasitic process can cause them to mutate into Cruxis Crystals. It was the opposite of a normal crest, which used inhibitor ore to prevent the Exsphere from feeding off its host. While it was true that Lloyd's Exsphere must have been subject to the same delay of its parasitism, later on it was attached with a crest made of inhibitor ore.

Lloyd stared at his Exsphere, attached to his left hand, the jewel and the crest it was mounted on winking in the sunlight pouring in from the window. The inhibitor ore should have restrained the parasitic process of his Exsphere. And it had, he'd never gotten sick or been turned into a monster like other victims of Exspheres. But … inhibitor ore was called inhibitor for a reason. How could the Exsphere have changed after being attached to inhibitor ore for so long?

"Maybe it's true it shouldn't have changed … but inhibitor ore is only meant to restrain the bad aspects of Exspheres, to stop them from making you sick. There's nothing that would stop the Exsphere from changing into a Cruxis Crystal of its own accord."

"But that doesn't worry you at all?" Zelos pressed, and the way he looked so distraught bothered Lloyd. "Remember what Kate said? If the Angelus Project succeeded, the subject would die after the Exsphere became a Cruxis Crystal. Your Exsphere is a product of that project!"

"I don't know, either, okay?!" Lloyd yelled, and abruptly Zelos fell silent, sapphire eyes wide. "Like you said, nothing like it ever happened before. I'm still alive, I'm not losing my humanity, so I don't want to hear a word about it anymore!"

"… All right, Lloyd. But be careful. You're worse off than Colette was when she had that chronic angelus sickness; she didn't have poison trapped inside her."

He was silent as Zelos took his leave. He knit his brow, frustrated. Was he really worse off than Colette had been? He might have poison inside him, but he at least had medicine for that. Colette's body had been crystallizing. Suddenly, Lloyd froze, panic seizing his heart. If—if what Zelos said was true, that his changed Exsphere might do something to him … what if _he _started turning to crystal? He flexed all his limbs, checked every bit of skin he could—and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He was still normal. No ghastly green shell consumed his skin.

Inwardly Lloyd wondered if he should just remove his Exsphere. But no, that might do more harm than good, especially in a situation he knew next to nothing about. He also needed its power, that had been clear multiple times on this strange new journey. It was no good to worry about it, or that was what he kept telling himself, anyway. If his changed Exsphere did end up beginning to turn him to crystal, there was no cure for it, not here, not on Auldrant. Auldrant didn't have mana leaves, Auldrant didn't have dwarves, Auldrant didn't have mana fragments, Auldrant didn't have any means to make a Rune Crest.

If the miasma inside him didn't kill him, his Exsphere might.

Why … why did all of this have to be so hard?

--

It was easy to observe Asch's memories as an outsider looking in, a boon on his original's part. Luke himself knew perfectly well the scenes playing before his eyes: Sheridan. It was swarming with Oracle Knights, and a few times he even glimpsed the blockade that kept him and Lloyd in the plaza with Cantabile. Oddly, the city itself seemed devoid of civilians, and he thought so. Then, as he looked through Asch's eyes, he saw why.

Asch had led many of the people of Sheridan out of the city, away from danger. If the craftsmen had stayed, no doubt Van and his soldiers would have cut them all down. They were of the original world, after all, doomed to die no matter what. Though Asch had only said he'd consider commanding the passage rings for Jade and the others, this much had been clear to the original: the Tartarus was fundamental in putting a rut in Van's scheme to destroy the original world. Ginji, using a small fontech vehicle that was modeled after a landship in that it could go over both land and water, had ferried Asch off the coast of Radessia, circling around the port so as to avoid Van and his soldiers.

Thanks to Ginji, Asch had boarded the Tartarus. The others had been surprised to see him, but not unpleasantly so, Natalia in particular. They were shorthanded as it was, another hand to help operate the massive landship was nothing short of a godsend, especially with the limited time they had to work with, cut even finer by the sea of Oracle Knights that had engulfed the city.

Time had sped forward in Asch's memories then; nothing much was happening other than constant, gnawing anxiety as they drew nearer and nearer the gaping hole in the ocean where Akzeriuth used to be, three impossibly long days. There had been a point where the Tartarus's alarm set off, indicating an intruder—Sync the Tempest. Anise had been worried, but the Colonel maintained operating the Taratarus until it was delivered and activated in the core was of the utmost priority.

Though Luke knew who the intruder was, the others had not. He wondered why Sync hadn't tried to do away with everyone on the bridge of the Tartarus, he'd had three whole days of such a perfect opportunity. He discovered why as Asch's memory sped forward.

Lowered into the core, the vibration activated, they moved to the deck of the Tartarus, where a fonic glyph had been drawn that would eject the Albiore from the planet's core. Upon emerging on deck, nothing but a blank expanse of hardwood met their eyes.

"_Where the hell is that glyph?" _

"_I erased it for you."_

So much happened at once. Like Luke had overheard Dist say in Daath, this mission would likely see Sync dead, and nobody, not even Sync himself, seemed to care one whit about it, as long as he managed to destroy the Tartarus or brutally eliminate all who stood in Van's way. As Luke watched the hellish battle on the deck of the landship, it was obvious that Sync had failed in all those regards, but with a single stroke of Asch's sword, the mask that covered Sync's face flew off.

And everything shifted.

"_Please, come with us! You and I are the same!"_

"_No we're not! I don't want to listen to the drivel of a replica who has people that need him!"_

People that needed him. People that needed Ion, and Luke, not just as replacements for their originals, but as people in and of themselves. Not like Sync, not like the other six replicas of the original Fon Master, who were gathered up and thrown away into the mouth of Mt. Zaleho, trash to be disposed of because they were weaker, they didn't have the abilities of the original Ion. There could only be one Ion.

"_I'm not even a replacement like you or that pathetic excuse of a Sacred Flame!"_

Those words struck painfully within Luke. While he had thought his existence a blight upon the lives of others, he at least had a life. There were other replicas who were less fortunate, others who couldn't even have the right to exist because they weren't good enough for the originals who created them. Others like the rejected Ion replicas that were cast into a volcano alive.

"_I'm only alive so Van can use me! In the end, only those of us who are useful are kept alive … out of pity!"_

Through Asch's eyes, Luke watched as Sync stepped backward, inexolerably, toward the edge of the deck. His heel met air, and he leaned backward, small body tumbling in a swirling mass of memory particles and fonons, no doubt crumpling as it left the protective fonic barrier of the Tartarus.

'_Sync … is that really how you feel?' _Lukethought as the memories continued to play out: Asch, Tear, and Jade redrawing the fonic glyph the God-General had erased to prevent their escape. _'Are replicas really worthless if we can't replace someone, be useful …?'_

'_Sync isn't much different from you in that regard,' _Came Asch's voice over the memories. The memory of Asch had collapsed as Lorelei's will manifested itself within him, but the original couldn't make heads or tails of what the sentience was trying to convey through the pain. Tear had tried healing him, and Lorelei, recognizing a descendant of Yulia, turned to speak through her instead. _'Created as a tool, only so Van can use him in his crusade against the Score. But you know better than anyone replicas can be more than just tools of convenience.'_

'_He …he's still helping Van, even after … even after he was thrown into a volcano?'_

'_He had nowhere else to go. He's only two years old, after all. Actually, I was the one to look after him when Van inducted him in the Oracle Knights.'_

'_Why? Why did you show me this?' _Luke didn't know how to feel about Sync anymore. Before, it was fear, hatred, for everything done to him underneath Daath's cathedral. Now, the truth about Sync laid bare, even Luke could see what had driven the Tempest to those extremes. All he could feel was an overwhelming sympathy, not pity, exactly, but a fierce desire burned to save Sync from Van, from himself.

'_What Sync did to you was unforgivable. But he's as much of a victim of Van's as you are. I want you to understand that. Blind hatred never helped anyone, and I know firsthand.'_

'_I … feared him more than hated him. You're right, though—it wasn't as if he had much choice. I … want to help give him that choice.'_

The memory-scape faded away, and Luke could see through his own eyes once more. He blinked, hovering over Asch's body, his hands clenching the red and black Oracle mantle. He sat upright, flexing his hands—he had control of his own body again, Asch's mind somewhere in the back of his head. Before he could ask, Asch supplied in a mental gruff:

'_I'm tired. I got most of the pattern off my face, but there is the rest of it. We'll try again another time.'_

Luke rose at the bedside, staring down at Asch's body. The fatigue of their joined hyperresonance pulled at him, and with Asch tired, he knew they weren't going to make any more progress. He didn't know what to do with himself in the meantime, and he didn't want to leave his original's body alone, even though it was more than safe in Emperor Peony's palace. The God-Generals weren't so brazen as to attack Grand Chokmah head on … right?

He bit down on the leather of his glove, worried. Wherever they went, nowhere was truly safe. Grand Chokmah could become a fortress in wartime, but now was not wartime, even if they were in a heightened state of alert because of the attack on the Chesedonian forces. Arietta could hail more flying monsters to swoop in from above, or even aquatic ones to come up from below. Without Arietta, the God-Generals likely wouldn't be able to touch Grand Chokmah, but they had her, and the Sword of Lorelei, half the key, was the weapon that would tip the scale in their favor.

He remembered Emperor Peony saying the Kimlascan court needed to be checked to confirm the attack wasn't of Kimlasca's devising. So, after the others checked up on General Frings to see who had attacked the Malkuth Imperial Forces, they were likely headed for Baticul next. With Arietta's connection with monsters, fontech tracking devices, or perhaps both, the God-Generals would know where they would go. And no doubt they would follow.

"Dammit … we can't deal with the world's issues _and _keep fending off the God-Generals!"

'_We have to try.'_

'_I know, but still! I can't stand the thought of being attacked at any time!' _Vividly memories of the siege of Sheridan flashed before his eyes. Nothing but an insurmountable wall of Oracle Knights, in a pit of fangs with Cantabile the Steadfast. Malkuth had more than its share of misery at Luke's hands, it didn't need any more.

There was a knocking on the door, and it opened. Luke turned, brow quirked. He blinked, lips parting in surprise when he saw who walked inside. Of tall stature, dressed well, long red hair falling down his back, azure eyes looking into Luke's own verdant ones with a piercing light. If the other man hadn't already been established as a friend's friend, Luke wasn't sure if he would have trusted him.

"You're …" he thought for a moment, everything had been happening so fast lately it took a bit of time to sort it out. "Zelos, right?"

'_Who's he?'_

'_A friend of Lloyd's. He says he's a Kimlascan noble, but I don't remember seeing his family name in the royal dossiers.'_

'_What's his full name?'_

'_Zelos Wilder.'_

'… _I don't remember any Kimlascan nobles with that name, either.'_

'_Weird.'_

'_But he does look Kimlascan.'_

Zelos laughed good-naturedly, a wide grin on his face. "Well, well, so nice to be remembered, though there really shouldn't be any less for the Great Zelos!" Luke blinked.

'_Haha, he sounds more conceited than you used to be!' _

The replica had to stop to process two things: that Asch had cracked a joke at his expense, and laughed at it. Asch laughed. Asch. Laughed. They seemed too incongruous to be together at all, like oil and water.

"Right, right, whatever. So what brings you here?"

"To be honest," Here, the musical lilt dropped out of his voice, and he rubbed the back of his head, rather like Guy would when he was nervous. "I'm worried about Lloyd."

"Did something happen to Lloyd?" Luke asked, tilting his head to one side curiously.

"Nothing serious," Zelos replied, nonchalantly waving off the question. "He just overworked himself healing that General Frings dude."

"He healed Frings? So he'll live?" He breathed a huge sigh of relief. He'd heard from the others how Frings and Cecille were supposed to get married soon, that they would as soon as things calmed down between Kimlasca and Malkuth.

Zelos nodded. "Yeah. But Lloyd ended up getting tuckered out. He's always been like that, throwing his neck out for other people without a second thought." He folded his arms, smirking mischievously. Luke was suddenly reminded of Anise and Jade simultaneously. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. "So, I just stopped by to let you know that I'll be coming with you all from now on."

Luke blinked. "Wait, what? You're coming with us? Do you know how dangerous it's gonna be? The God-Generals are after us, we could be attacked at any given time!" He opened his mouth to say more but stopped as Zelos threw a palm in front of his face.

"Tsk, tsk, do you not see the sword at my belt? I'm not just a pretty face—"

'_Like we'd be looking at his _belt.'

Asch's thought passed over Luke as he stared into Zelos's palm. A sticky note was stuck there, with something scribbled on it in fonic scrawl not unlike Luke's own handwriting.

'_Vic-to-ry Light Spear …? The hell is that?'_

There was more on the note, something about how Zelos "kicked the asses of the bad guys, returned Colette to normal with the power of his love, Sheena fell in love with him, Kratos and Lloyd had a super touching reunion and made their peace, and then the world became one and we all lived happily ever after!" Luke backed up half a step, and Zelos, who was still babbling on, didn't seem to notice.

'_Is this guy for real? What the heck did Lloyd see in him?'_

'_Hell if I know. But … we do need all the help we can get. Especially with my body the way it is right now.'_

'_I wonder if he's any good in battle.'_

"—and you'll regret if it you turned me down anyway, for one because I don't take no for an answer (especially if those darling hunnies I saw in the hallway are traveling with you), and two in addition to my awesome strike artes, I know a few fonic artes, and some healing ones! I also trained in the same style as Kratos, so next time he shows up he won't completely rock your world!"

At the end of his spiel, Zelos stood up straight, taller than Luke by a few inches, hands on his hips, the left one resting proudly on the hilt of his short sword. Luke folded his arms, considering.

"Well, I don't think it's such a bad idea, but you'll have to at least run it by Jade. He always has the final say in everything."

Zelos laughed uproariously. "No need to worry, I've dealt with sticks in the mud before."

"Oh, man, if he heard you say that … Anyway, good to have you with us, Zelos." Luke reached forward with an open hand.

Smirking for all he was worth, Zelos clapped Luke's hand in his own, shaking firmly.

"Believe me, hun, you won't regret it," He flashed a wink.

Luke flushed red as he pulled his hand out of Zelos's grip. "D-don't call me 'hun'!"

"Hn? Then how about babe?"

"No!"

"Tiger?"

"Would you please shut up?"

"Okay, tiger it is~"

"_Zelos!"_

--

A/N: The writing on the sticky note is from the bonus animation Zelos's private lesson from the ToS OVA, as is the hand in the face gag with something written on it (in the skit it was "Knight of Ratatosk: selling well right now!"). Next chapter, Natalia rejoins the party! I was going to do the Sync memory bit differently, but as I cut it out from last chapter, I wasn't sure where to put it in this one, so I improvised. And now that we've got the Vic-to-ry Light Spear joke, all we need is a nuclear Tiger Blade :D The first episode of the Tethe'alla chapter of the animation was released recently, too, so go watch it! Fitting that this chapter features an asskicking Zelos, when much of the Tethe'alla episode was made of Zelos strutting his stuff (his Exsphere SHINES in the moonlight, they even included a memory of the "red snow" in Meltokio, and he was _winking at the Pope)._ Yeah, if that's not epic, I don't know what is.


	47. The Steadfast's Lament

It was hard to get around when you were a wanted woman, but the wonderful thing was the non-existant aspect of Daath's law enforcement when for all intents and purposes the entire military branch was missing. Maestro Tritheim had been working himself to he marrow trying to rebuild the Oracle Knights, but it hadn't been easy, so he had told her. In fact, the Maestro had asked her to come back, to help rebuild, as the whole Order had been thrown into chaos, and though the Fon Master and Mayor Teodoro were dealing with it as best as they were able, they would need all the help they could get.

Cantabile had considered it. She couldn't go anywhere else in Kimlasca or Malkuth, aside from the neutral territory of Chesedonia, but armies of both nations always surrounded the trading city. For the last month she'd been thinking about what to do with herself. The other God-Generals had survived Mt. Roneal, the planet's core … and they were all actively helping Van realize his vision of a replica world free of the Score. She might have returned to them … until she'd heard that Van himself had survived.

The important thing about waging war was knowing when to quit. For the last month she and Kratos had bided in Daath, after days of drifting the wilderness. She was quite surprised that the Order had welcomed them with open arms after everything they and the Oracle Knights had done under Van's command, but she never was one to spurn blessings. Maestro Tritheim himself had said the church existed to offer salvation to all. They were welcome to stay as long as they needed. As the days passed into weeks, she had seen firsthand the changes worked upon the world, the chain of events Van himself had set into motion beginning with Akzeriuth.

It was true, the people still clamored for the Score, but no longer did mobs engulf the cathedral in an unstoppable tide. Though they grumbled and complained about the lack of Score readings, they went on with their lives. Cantabile wondered, was what Gailardia said true? Could people change? Kimlasca and Malkuth had also put forth measures to stop relying on the Score, the world moving as a single hand of the clock, the beat of a single heart. Could people truly stop relying on the Score? Would tragedies like Hod be averted?

Standing in the sunset on Fourth Monument Hill, Cantabile faced Legretta, a hard frown on her face.

"No matter what path you take, the end result is the same. The world will go down the path of destruction as the Seventh Fonstone dictates!"

"You've never wondered, Legretta?" Cantabile asked, her hand resting on the hilt of her katana but she didn't draw it. "You've never wondered whether Hod would have fallen if people took steps to prevent it instead of deliberately bringing it about? What if what Gailardia, those kids—Tear—said was true? What if the Score isn't absolute?"

The blonde woman narrowed her sapphire eyes, as if she were disgusted with the other God-General. "I would have thought you of all people would have understood. But it seems you'd persist in being ungodly stubbon, like Tear." She spread her feet, shoulder width apart, like she would in preparation to open fire. Cantabile stepped back, ready to draw her weapon at a moment's notice. "Van is alive. Why do you hesitate when you helped him so many ways before?"

Cantabile's granite grey eye narrowed. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword, so tightly they shook. "That—that _thing _that's going to crawl out of the core isn't Van. He's no longer the man I knew, he's just some pathetic shell of a person that couldn't survive through his own strength, that only lived by latching himself onto Lorelei like a bloodsucking parasite!"

The metal of handguns winked in the dying sunlight as Legretta took aim. If the two formerly of the God-Generals' number refused to return, they were nothing more than loose ends to be tied. The man, Kratos, had been a useful tool but one that ultimately failed its purpose. Cantabile—Legretta never had much love for her, but she would have brought her back, for Van if no one else. But the moment she denounced her childhood friend, her comrade in arms, her Commandant as nothing more than a bloodsucking parasite, she sealed her own fate. Legretta whispered a farewell as she squeezed the trigger.

Cantabile dodged the first bullet, but she couldn't completely get out of the line of fire of the second; it planted itself deeply in her left arm. Blood splattered on the Fourth Monument, the sharp steel arc of Cantabile's sword glinting in the sunlight as God-General clashed against God-General. Even wounded, the Steadfast was nothing to be trifled with, and Legretta returned her blows full force. A burst of Sixth Fonons in an Éclair d'Larmes threw Cantabile back, and in record casting time that would make any fonist envious, the Quick reshaped the same arte in a swath of Fifth Fonons.

"_Flamme Rouge!"_

Belatedly Cantabile threw up a defense arte, Guardian. But the blow never came. Before her the mass of Fifth Fonons had been deflected—no, she looked closer—it had been absorbed. She opened her mouth to ask, but she didn't need to. A small smile crept upon her face as the smoke from the fonic arte cleared.

"You have uncanny timing as usual, Kratos."

Kratos held up the shimmering sword with a vermillion sheen, cast in a strangely dark light with his back to the sun. "I don't see you complaining." He indicated the bleeding wound in her arm, which she pressed with her hand. Seventh Fonons glowed in her palm, beginning to mend the injury.

"Indeed not." Cantabile replied, taking a small step back. Even if she couldn't engage Legretta head on, the blonde woman wasn't the only one with a knack for fonic artes. If the Quick were to consider fighting both the Steadfast and Ardent head on. From the look on her face, she seemed to be rethinking the idea of tying up the loose ends.

"What now, Legretta?" Kratos asked, brandishing his Flamberge. "Is disposing of us all you're here for? Are we really so much of a threat you'd bother coming down here to take care of us yourself?"

"You'd do well not to make light of your own abilities, Kratos." Legretta spat, glaring daggers. She lowered her weapons, taking a step backward. "Still, it would be best not to believe you'll last long if you insist on being anywhere but the Commandant's side." With that, she turned on her heel, leaving.

Blood seeped through Cantabile's fingers, but she murmured a Cure, and when she moved her hand the skin underneath was smooth, completely restored. The threat gone, she sheathed her sword, Kratos following suit.

"So, you don't intend to follow Van anymore?" He asked, arms folded as he leaned against a tree.

"I could ask the same of you." Cantabile turned, looking at the city of Daath in the distance. Everything was encompassed in the cathedral's all-consuming shadow … or else sheltered under its wings. It was a beautiful city, and she used to believe its beauty was twisted and contorted, made pretty by the lives it destroyed by following the Score. Now, she wasn't so sure if that beauty was twisted. What made Daath beautiful now? "What about you?" She asked, stealing a glance at him over her shoulder. "You said you've been remembering who you were. What are you going to do?"

Kratos gave an amused chortle. "It's a somewhat difficult position, actually. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do." He looked up, his visible wine red eye locking with Cantabile's granite grey. "But you at least have a place to start anew."

"… Yeah. I've always had a place in Daath. Even though I hated upholding the very Score that destroyed my life. I always thought there was no other way but to follow Van's ideals."

"It is not enough to merely bow your head and just go along with someone else's ideals. If there's something you don't like, that you want to change … you have to do it yourself."

Cantabile frowned, folding her arms. It was true, what Kratos was saying. She'd always hated the Score, hated the world that blindly followed the Score because it promised prosperity even at the cost of thousands of innocent lives. She could intervene directly at the source at the perfect time when the world turned as one hand in the clock, as the beat of one heart, and break the hold the Score held over the world, or she could turn her back on everything and crush it all under her heel.

"I've been wondering about this lately … is the Score truly absolute? Van said that deviations were as nothing before the Score …"

Kratos laughed, surprising Cantabile. "It always was a question of, do you have power over the Score, or does it have power over you? Van is the one who cannot let go, the real slave to Yulia's Score."

"That's true … he never could let it go …" Hell, the man even made the Score of the Sixth Fonstone come true as the opening ceremony in his crusade against it! Instead of intervening directly when he had the power, he had condemned the city of Akzeriuth. As head of the Oracle Knights, he could have worked with the Fon Master. Even though Ion was a replica, he fulfilled his duties as leader of the Order admirably, and anyone who knew him even slightly also knew how he felt about the Score. It was merely a guide, not something to follow right to the letter as if no one had free will. That realization struck Cantabile more strongly than she would have thought.

Van had been in a perfect position to change the world, and for the better. He could have saved Akzeriuth, he could have saved Luke, the original as well as the replica, he could have prevented the wars between Kimlasca and Malkuth …

And Van had thrown it all away, in the name of revenge.

"If anything," Kratos continued softly, almost too low for Cantabile to hear, "I'm definite proof the Score isn't absolute. I highly doubt Yulia foresaw me, or Lorelei's own bout of resourcefulness."

Cantabile quirked a brow, bewildered. "Why wouldn't Yulia have predicted you? Didn't you have your birth Score read at least once in your life?"

"No," Kratos said flatly, and Cantabile fell slient, shocked. His admiration for the sentience of the Seventh Fonon had augmented exponentially as the bits and pieces of his memory that had been resurfacing pieced together, and he realized what had happened almost half a year ago.

He'd wondered how Lloyd felt in being caught up in all this, used as a pawn in the gods' game of chess. Kratos himself discovered he didn't mind much, if anything, his life belonged to Origin. Still, he knew what it was like to twist and convult a world beyond recognition. Was this truly best for Auldrant, had Lorelei chosen correctly when it brought in outsiders?

"In any case," Kratos spoke, "the God-Generals are planning to do something in Daath, otherwise Legretta wouldn't have bothered coming down here personally." The Quick needn't have spent her own resources tracking them down, since they were of the original world and doomed to die in the fires of Van's crusade anyway. "And if there's one, more will surely follow. Be ever vigilant."

"Don't worry, I will."

As darkness of night fell over the city like a shroud, Cantabile had sat at the desk in her room in the barracks of the Oracle Knights, the once bustling wing of the cathedral so cold, so dark, so empty now. She lit a candle, the light wavering but giving enough so she could see what she was doing. A sheaf of paper lay before her on the desk's polished surface. An inkwell sat beside it, the tip of a feather quill pen resting on the well's lip.

If Cantabile were going to make things right, she may as well start here. She lifted the pen, pressing the cut tip to the paper, black ink blotting the white paper like a bloodstain. She tried writing out what she meant to say, what had been eating away at her mind ever since she had been at the Radiation Gate. Every time she'd end up with just a mess of ink blots, she would crumple up the paper and start over. How should she begin? Finally, it came to her as she dipped her pen in the inkwell, and put it to paper.

_O violent strains that render demons to ashes _

_Va Neu Va Rei, Va Neu Va Zue Rei_

_Tear—I'm sorry I lied to you. The truth is, Van never …_

* * *

"Hey, looking sharp, tiger!"

Luke scowled as he and Guy emerged from the Emperor's room, carrying Asch's unconscious body between them. It hadn't even been a whole day since Zelos had come into their fold, and the Fabre's nerves were close to being frayed by the older man's obnoxious antics. He was surprised Jade had even agreed to let Zelos tag along, but he imagined that the Necromancer relented for two reasons: Zelos was Lloyd's friend, and he was also another Seventh fonist.

With the prospect of clashing against the God-Generals and their Oracle Knights once again staring them in the face, possibly with Kratos and Cantabile (a frightening enough prospect even without them), another sword hand was most certainly welcome. Perhaps Jade thought that having one of his own friends would keep Lloyd from constantly doing things that put him in danger that could have been avoided otherwise. The other advantage Zelos brought to the table was he was a Seventh fonist that knew actual healing artes and wasn't hindered by miasma toxicosis. Cruel as it was to Tear and Lloyd, it was the truth.

Zelos also made a more reliable Seventh fonist than Natalia in that he could defend himself at close range, and even devote himself to attacking until his healing artes were needed. Besides, as the crown princess of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear, no one was sure Natalia could join their journey once more.

"Zelos," Luke sighed as he and Guy slowly moved Asch's body, "you're making Asch feel heavier than he already is." The Fabre pointedly ignored the mental jab his original threw at him after the remark.

"I'm serious!" Zelos protested, gesturing to Luke's coat. Instead of the blue one he had been wearing earlier, he'd donned a black one that was similar to the blue coat's style, except it was hemmed in gold. It was an excellent contrast, bright gold against ink black.

"Could you go get everyone else, then?" Guy asked, bearing the better part of Asch's weight. "We have to get Asch onboard the Albiore, and I'd rather we didn't have to do it alone." The God-Generals were after Asch and the Sword of Lorelei he carried within him, they would do well not to take any chances.

Zelos heaved a dramatic sigh. "Fine, fine, I can tell when I'm not wanted." Then his face brightened, cracking a toothy grin. "I'm sure those darling hunnies I had the pleasure of meeting earlier would think otherwise."

"Ugh, whatever, just go please!" Luke groaned, his emerald eyes rolling upward. He'd learned quickly that whenever Zelos mentioned "hunnies," he was talking about girls, and by "I had the pleasure of meeting earlier," he must have meant Tear and Anise. Well, Luke didn't think Tear would like a guy like Zelos, he was too flamboyant, didn't seem to take anything seriously, acted dramatic one moment, silly the next. As for Anise … actually, Luke could see their personalities clicking, just throw in that Zelos was a noble and she would be all over him like ants in someone's picnic.

Before they had disembarked ahead of Theor Forest when Ginji first landed here, they agreed that parking the Albiore by Grand Chokmah's gates was too risky, it was too close to the wilderness, and the God-Generals had ambushed them in the woods before. So it was decided that Ginji would await their return in the harbor; the Albiore _could _travel by sea, after all.

'_Careful!' _Asch gave a mental hiss as Luke and Guy propped his body against a wall. They rolled their shoulders, kneading out the kinks that came with carrying the God-General's body. That made Asch pout, was he really that heavy?

"I think we should wait until the others come back," Luke said. "At the risk of sounding paranoid, I don't feel comfortable taking Asch anywhere with just us two."

"I agree with you, though," Guy replied. "The God-Generals have been unpredictable lately. Better to stay here so that if they find us, there's the Malkuth Imperial Forces to trip them up." If the Sword of Lorelei really were that much of a threat or a potential benefit, he wouldn't put it past them to attack even the Floating Capital. Luke nodded.

"I really don't think we could fight off any God-Generals and protect Asch's body at the same time. Rather not lose the Sword of Lorelei …" He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I don't want to stay here, either, if the God-Generals attack, they'd attack Malkuth … how do they know where we are, anyway?"

Guy shrugged. "I'm pretty sure that the God-Generals had a method of spying for a while, before they even left Daath. And they'd attack Malkuth anyway, anyone, if they succeed in reviving Van's plan for a replica world. I know it's hard, Luke, but you have to remember that the whole world is wrapped up in this. The God-Generals aren't going to stop, not until they get what they want, or until they die in the attempt."

Luke bit his lip at that. What Guy said was true. Usually, if you cut down a leader, those who followed him would fall apart. With no one to unite those left behind, no one to deliver impassioned speeches on his ideals, the followers would tend to lose faith altogether.

Not the God-Generals.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is incomplete, as I forgot how I was going to go from here to Baticul, and so on and so forth, but I figure the first part of the chapter makes up for it.


	48. Return to Baticul

A/N: I was looking over whatever synopsis notes I had written down, and there's a lot of extraneous stuff I planned that aren't realy necessary for the overall plot XD On the one hand I liked being really accurate to the Abyss story, but then again, considering my copy of the game doesn't work anymore, that's become something of a moot point.

* * *

"This place reminds me of Meltokio."

"Getting homesick?"

"Nah, not really ..."

Lloyd stood across from Zelos on the air car, riding their way up to the Baticul castle. They'd flown from Grand Chokmah,  
to Baticul, to inquire in the Kimlascan court whether the kingdom had in fact been responsible for attacking the Malkuthian forces stationed around Chesedonia. But with testimony from General Frings, it was likely it hadn't been Kimlasca at all.

The General said that the soldiers were ill equipped, and used suicidal tactics that, Tear had agreed, weren't the strategies a national army would use. If Kimlasca hadn't attacked Malkuth, then who had attacked, and why? The two world powers had just recently signed their treaty agreement, and yet these kinds of things still persisted.

War had been averted, so someone else with ulterior motives was attempting to pull the strings into starting another one.

Why?

He didn't understand.

"...I think I may understand Mithos's view on things."

Zelos gave him an incredulous look.

"What brought this on?"

"This world. It's so ..."

The Chosen cut him off before he could get any further with that train of thought.

"It's so what? Twisted? Misshapen? Something's wrong with every world, Bud. Ours was pretty twisted for a long time. A long, long time."

Lloyd stubbornly shook his head. Zelos wasn't understanding. He hadn't lived on this world long, he hadn't seen the things the dwarf-raised boy had. Hadn't experienced what he had.

"Different worlds. Different people. But through all this ... human nature hasn't changed at all. People are still fighting over nothing, still dying like they used to. This ... what does it matter? Why, why do people have to kill each other like this? Never mind just killing, outright destroying!"

As Lloyd spoke, venting all these pent up feelings he'd been developing over the course of his stay on Auldrant, Zelos could only look on, genuinely stunned, mouth agape in ... surprise? Horror? This didn't sound like the Lloyd he knew at all. It hadn't been that long ... had it?

"Lloyd ..."

"Four thousand years Mithos had his way with the worlds. It was true, he saved them by splitting them, but he refused to help the Great Seed germinate. He was sacrificing the world just to save Martel. And this world ... what makes a person?  
What makes a human being, and not a replica? I don't see the difference, and this Score? Ugh. I'm not even going to pretend to even try to understand the thing about it here. I wouldn't be surprised if it was just a lie, just like Cruxis, the angels, the goddess Martel ... it was all a big lie, and this is no different!"

He ended with a near shout, and he realized belatedly that his fists were clenched, and shaking. Zelos chose his words carefully, this was thin ice they stood upon.

"What are you saying, Lloyd? That this world is bad? That it doesn't deserve your help? Or the people living in it?"

"No! It's just ... I don't understand why people can't get along!"

This time he did shout, and if the people going on their way in the streets of Baticul heard him, they didn't show it.

"This guy thinks the Score is trash, so what's his plan? Destroy everyone and everything, start from scratch by somehow replicating everything and everyone! He can't even have the decency to stay dead! Is everyone on Auldrant this insane?"

"Lloyd, calm down!" Zelos put up his hands, in the universal 'don't hurt me' gesture. "Think of your miasma, you don't want to get yourself worked up! You have something to tell to that hunny princess, don't you?"

Lloyd took in deep breaths, Zelos was right, of course. He took in Tear's miasma from her body into his own, he had to be extra careful, medicine be damned. They came to Baticul for a purpose, and while it was unexpected that Zelos had come along to join the ride, it was something Lloyd was extremely grateful for.

He liked Luke's friends, he really did ... but that was the problem.

They were Luke's friends.

Not his.

* * *

Zelos hadn't been on Auldrant long, and he while he took pains to learn everything he could, aided by the letters Lloyd wrote him during that month long stay at Duke Fabre's manor, he was far from an expert on what was going on in the world, never mind the people that lived in it.

But what he wouldn't give to be able to keep that sweet memory of Princess Natalia Luzu Kimlasca-Lanvaldear throttling Jade Curtiss alive in his mind forever!

It began innocently enough. The rest of the group met up with Lloyd and Zelos off the air car station, at the top of the city's tiers, where King Ingobert's castle loomed over the rest of the city. Together they walked, to the double doors of Ingobert's castle. Natalia's name was mentioned, and as if it were a summons, she appeared, escorted by a platoon of soldiers.

She asked if they had called her, and needed her for anything, but not before she dismissed her escort. Then, as if she forgot something, she ever so nonchalantly approached Jade.

And proceeded to choke the living daylights out of him.

"Everyone in Chesedonia stared at me like I was the devil! It was insulting!"

Immediately Zelos wished that Tethe'alla had princesses like Natalia. Don't get him wrong, he didn't have anything against the exquisite hunny Princess Hilda (but oh how he wished she'd hold something against him!), but there was just a certain kind of charm about a king's daughter that wasn't afraid to take things into her own hands.

It really did take a certain amount of ovaries to be laying hands on an officier of what could be the enemy country.

"That's what we came here to talk about, Natalia." Luke said by the door. "Could you get us an unofficial audience with His Majesty?"

"Certainly. Let's discuss the details in Father's room." She gave a quizzical glance to Lloyd and Zelos; the first she knew was familiar,  
and the second, she had seen him visit the Fabre manor, but other than that, he was a new face.

Zelos spent the time during the meeting with King Ingobert in the castle's entrance hall. Lloyd supposed the Chosen didn't feel as if he had been around long enough to get in on such details, but that was absurd, wasn't it? Jade himself had agreed to bring Zelos along, if only for the possibility of fighting the God-Generals again, and for the fact he could use healing artes. Whether Natalia would be allowed to journey again was still up in the air.

In the meeting with the King, Lloyd was a little surprised, for not one but two reasons: that the Kingdom of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear hadn't attacked the Malkuth military was no surprise, it was expected. But Kimlasca had also been attacked by this mysterious military. The how was apparent,  
the armies had been ambushed, with suicide bombing tactics, while the Malkuth military had been on training exercises, no less. They were by no means prepared.

The Kimlascan forces had fared much better than the Malkuth ones, but the fact remained: neither Kimlasca or Malkuth had meant to wage hostilities against one another. But who ...?

"I have issued no orders to attack Malkuth."

"Indeed," Natalia nodded in agreement with her father, "my country is innocent."

"Then who was it that attacked General Frings?" Guy asked; like the others in attendance, he wasn't surprised that the Kimlascan royal family had been framed-or, whoever was behind this, tried to frame them.

Lloyd didn't really know who might attack both countries, so he remained silent. Jade, on the other hand, seemed to know.

"He said the eyes of the unidentified soldiers were like those of the dead ... that concerns me."

"Does that mean something to you?" Luke asked, although he looked as if he knew the answer, even as Colonel continued.

"Similar cases have appeared in connection with fomicry experiments. With the God-Generals involved, it's possible they have created replica soldiers."

Luke's eyes went wide, and he turned away. "Replicas ... the same as me ..."

Lloyd's fists clenched, and his eyes narrowed. "No, they're not the same as you, Luke. Those replicas, if that's what they are, were created for the sole purpose of fighting, of throwing their lives away. You have your own life, you lived your own life, you're not like them."

Here Luke gave a wry smile. "I was created to be thrown away for the sake of Van's movement of taking down the Score."

"Luke," Tear's voice had a warning tone. In response, he shook his head.

"I'm not saying that I believe that ... not anymore. But, still ... me, and Ion ... could have ended up just like them."

"That's ridiculous and you know it." Natalia said, folding her arms as she glared in Luke's direction, olive green eyes narrowed. Her expression was like when she used to scold Luke, and it would have been comical if not for the topic at hand. "I could say I have no place here, either, not having any royal blood. But Father and the others accepted me. Just as we have accepted you, and Ion. So please don't say things like that."

Lloyd had to blink; Natalia wasn't a real princess? He hadn't heard of that before. He kept his silence on that matter, it sounded as if that had been over and done with, and if he were to speak up about it now, it might be rubbing wounds raw.

"This is an outrage!" Ingobert sounded it, even seated at his desk. "What could they hope to gain by using replicas to impersonate my kingdom?"

"Perhaps they're trying to cause a war between Kimlasca and Malkuth." Tear's idea sounded spot-on. There was no other possible explanation.

"That's no different than Mohs."

Grand Maestro Mohs, of Daath, Lloyd recalled from a previous story-telling. "He wants to fulfill the Score by making Kimlasca and Malkuth fight, right?"

"That's right ... Dist took Mohs away." That was the entire reason Guy had been to Daath in the first place, to tell Fon Master Ion that Mohs was broken out of jail by none other than Dist the Reaper, the only God-General that had been thought to survive the avalanche on Mt. Roneal. He nodded to Lloyd's question. "If Mohs is involved, that's probably what he's trying to do, restore the Score by making us fight."

"But that doesn't make sense!" Lloyd protested. "War sucks, I've seen it firsthand. Why do it if it means destroying each other?"

"The Score promises prosperity, that's why." Anise answered, as-a-matter-of-factly. "It's ... safe, living according to what's written."

"But that doesn't make it right." Natalia turned to King Ingobert. "Father, please allow me to go to Daath. The world has veered off Yulia's Score, yet countless people still live bound by it."

But Anise was undeterred on her own feelings about it. "Yeah, it's scary not having it ..."

The princess continued as if she hadn't heard. "I believe we should hold a summit regarding what to do about the Score. Whether this was Mohs' doing or not, we cannot allow any more foolish actions in its name."

Foolish actions in the name of the Score ... foolish actions in the name of Cruxis, of the Goddess Martel. Lloyd wasn't sure whether to feel jealous of Auldrant right now. Their leaders were thinking about their own crises, and using their own heads to decide what to do about it. The same ... could not be said of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla. Sylvarant was never a unified power in Lloyd's lifetime, and apparently hadn't been for centuries. Tethe'alla had their king, but he couldn't do anything about the struggles for power in his own kingdom, never mind over both worlds.

Everything ... that anything had changed at all in the two worlds was solely because of Lloyd's group.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by King Ingobert's voice.

"Then I shall permit your departure, Natalia."

"Thank you, Father!"

"... So, we're going to Daath ..." Anise's voice lacked her usual energy and enthusiasm, and she hung her head, looking at her feet. Lloyd quirked a brow, Anise, sad?

"I think we should." Tear spoke. "We need to inform them that ... my brother may still be alive as well."

Lloyd remembered that happy discussion. The others had been annoyed at Luke, perhaps rightly so, for not repeating what Lorelei had told him after Van had fallen in the planet's core. But the fact remained: Van was trapping Lorelei somewhere, and the tools needed to free it were the Sword and Jewel of Lorelei. Asch had the Sword, trapped in his body, but still had it. The Jewel ... was nowhere to be found. Asch thought that if Luke didn't get it, then it must have come out one of the Sephiroth trees somewhere around the passage rings.

But with the Sword still trapped in Asch's body ... they couldn't exactly hunt for it. Yet, should they be worried? The God-Generals couldn't hunt for it, either,  
could they ...?

"I told them that in my letter." Anise said to Tear, with a somewhat chipper voice. Somewhat too chipper ... "So let's pass, okay?"

Anise had written Ion a letter before they departed from Grand Chokmah, something that had apparently irked Jade, but Lloyd didn't see the problem; Anise was Ion's attendant, after all, and the two were the best of friends. It was also best that Ion stay informed about what was going on around the world. So what was Jade's problem?

"What, you don't want to go home?" Luke sounded more bewildered than anything else as he looked at Anise.

"... No, it's not that."

"Okay, then we're off to Daath."

King Ingobert looked up, royal eyes meeting royal eyes. "Luke, take care of Natalia."

"Y-yes, Your Majesty."

* * *

On the way out of the castle, Zelos had slung an arm around Lloyd's shoulders, whistling a tune. Thus caught up, the two of them fell somewhat behind the others as they walked.

"So, Bud, did ya tell the hunny Princess 'bout your you know what?"

His voice was somewhat low, so the others didn't overhear, but Lloyd knew what Zelos was talking about: his wings. Before, at the Absorption Gate, the only ones who knew about his wings were Luke, Guy, and Jade. Then, during the battle with the God-Generals at Shurrey Hill, Tear and Anise saw them when he used them to save Asch's falling body. Out of Luke's group, that left only Natalia that wasn't in the know. He didn't think the others would tell Natalia about something like that, and ... he wasn't sure how the princess would take it. Besides, was now truly the time to be worrying about that?

But ... if the time came where he had to use his wings again, and only Natalia hadn't known ... that wasn't fair to her. Not at all, not one bit.

"Not yet ... but I'll tell her, before we reach Daath."

At Daath, she would be busy conversing with Fon Master Ion, and there was a chance that Malkuth would send over representatives, or even the Emperor himself to discuss the Score. There was no doubt Natalia was a princess that genuinely cared for the well being of her people, of her country. Of the well being of the world itself. In a way, she reminded him of Colette. He'd never hid anything from Colette, and even if he couldn't pour out his entire life story to Luke's friends, they deserved to know what they could know.

Natalia deserved this much, to know that Lloyd had wings.

The problem was exactly when to tell Natalia. As they were heading for the Albiore, it was a sure guess they'd be going straight to Daath, it wasn't that long a journey from Baticul to the Padamiya island chain, after all, not by the fonic vehicle. He couldn't just pull her aside, drop that bomb on her and expect her not to be shaken or just a little skeptical as they went on their way. And she had the summit to think about.

"How do I tell her?" Lloyd whispered to Zelos, the Chosen was always confident in his ability to talk to women, even though ninety percent of his conversations with them tended to go badly. "I can't just pull her aside right now and drop this on her, and I don't think she'll believe me right away, either."

Zelos took his arm off Lloyd's shoulders, thinking. "Hmm ... maybe you don't have to tell her right away. Maybe it can wait until after we go to Daath and talk to Ion."

"Maybe ... but what if I have to use them before then?"

"Y'know, Bud ..."

"What?"

"I told you before, but I don't think you should keep using your wings. You got all that miasma to think about, remember?"

Lloyd heaved a sigh. "I know ... I know. But emergencies can't be helped, I was fine before-"

"Before then, you only had half the miasma you're holding now. Do I have to give you one of your own speeches that you gave to Colette?"

The twin swordsman only glared. "No. No, you don't."

* * *

Luke, meanwhile, was fretting about telling Natalia a little secret of his own. How was he going to tell her that Asch was with them ... and yet, not? That was going to go over well, he could just feel it. What would he say to her? Hey, we found the man that you've obviously been in love with all your life, and he's kind of unconscious and residing in my head until we can get this kinda sorta Daathic fonic arte off him to get the Sword of Lorelei, how do you feel about that?

Not to mention this fiasco regarding the Jewel. Ugh, he could feel another headache coming on ...

"You all right, Luke?" Guy asked, falling into step beside him. They were near the Baticul docks now, where the Albiore awaited them. Ginji had pulled in at the docks instead of by land at the bridge, they thought it was too dangerous considering their group could be trapped on the bridge en route to the plains outside of Baticul. Not to mention that the Albiore itself would be vulnerable on an open plain. The ocean was still dangerous, given Arietta the Wild's command over monsters, but as far as they could tell, she couldn't command aquatic monsters, so docking in the ocean was the safer landing.

Luke looked over his shoulder, at the others trailing behind him. In the event they were attacked in a city-doubtful, but possible nonetheless-they walked in a spread formation that allowed the most advantage and recovery time, where no fonist went unaccompanied by a melee fighter. They had Lloyd and Zelos, too, to bolster their numbers and the both of them could use strike and healing artes, so that tipped the scale further into their favor.

But if the God-Generals were foolhardy enough to attack them in a city-if they could track their targets that far-there were the soldiers within that city to think about, too. But if Mohs was working with the God-Generals and had a replica army ... Luke shook his head. It was too stupid to be attacking them in a city. Mohs might be that stupid, but not the God-Generals. The Oracle Knights were probably the best army on the face of Auldrant, they wouldn't do something if they weren't confident in their ability to carry it out.

"I'm fine ... just wondering how I should tell Natalia about ... Asch."

Asch's consciousness was at minimal awareness at this time, something that Luke likened to sleeping, without actually being in his body, it must be tiring. He had been in control of Luke's body for a while, too ...

Guy clucked with his tongue. "Ah ... that's a tough subject. She'd be overjoyed at the prospect of seeing him again ... but not like the way he is now."

Luke nodded in agreement. "Yeah ... so I'm wondering how to tell her. I can't keep it a secret from her forever, everyone else knows, it's not fair to her."

"Some people might say it would be kinder to keep her ignorant," Guy frowned, thinking back on his time with Luke in the manor. "But see how well that turned out for you. Ignorance may be bliss, but it's definitely not kindness."

"No ... it's not kindness at all." The Fabre let out a sigh. "I don't want to distract her from talking to Ion when we get to Daath, either ..."

"You could tell her after we talk to Ion, there'll probably be some time after that. We still have to find the Jewel, but we can't search for it without the Sword,  
according to Asch. And Emperor Peony wants to use the Sword to calm down the Planet Storm ..."

"Yeah," Luke replied, chewing on his lower lip. "That's all important, but we can't accomplish it right away ... I don't see a reason to worry her before we get to Daath." Thinking over it some more, he nodded. "Yeah, I think I'll wait until after we get to Daath. Thanks, Guy."

The blond swordsman smiled. "No problem, Luke."

* * *

Anise would be biting her nails with anxiety if she weren't wearing gloves. And she'd never bitten her nails in front of everyone else before, either, so it would probably be better if she didn't show any more strange habits than she had to. She was pretty sure the Colonel at least was catching onto something. She could fool anyone she had to, it was almost easy just acting like nothing was wrong ... but fooling the Colonel? It was only a matter of time before he suspected something and found out.

But what could she do? There was nothing she could do, she knew that for the longest time. If she didn't do what Mohs told her, her parents would get thrown out of Daath,  
onto the street, or even worse. Mohs was a wanted criminal now, but he still could get at her parents if he was working with the God-Generals. Which was more than likely,  
seeing how Dist had broken him from the ferry carrying the Maestro to his doom.

She walked in the agreed upon formation when they were in cities, she used to be just a fonist before Dist made her Tokunaga the way he was now, so she doubled as a fonist and someone who could protect other fonists. Tear could defend herself at close range, and the Colonel still had strike artes, too, but his real strength lay in fonic artes, aided by his fonic sight. So ... she was walking alongside the Colonel.

Not terribly close, though, if they were all scrunched up together, that defeated the purpose of their city formation in the first place.

"Anise," Jade's voice startled her and sent shivers running up and down her spine, and not necessarily in a good way. "Is there something bothering you?"

"Bothering?" It took all her effort not to stutter. "No, not at all, Colonel. Why do you ask?"

He looked at her, remaining silent for a time. Those blood red eyes behind those glasses, there was something about that look that just chilled you to the core, and Anise was no exception. Finally, after impossibly long moments that seemed to last years, he resumed talking.

"You do know if there is something wrong, you can always talk to us about it." He looked ahead of their path now, approaching the Baticul docks. He looked so nonchalant,  
with his hands in his pockets like that. "I don't know if I can go so far to call us all friends," Jade said stiffly, in that comical tone of voice he had whenever he admitted something that grated against every fiber of his being to admit, "But we are comrades and companions. We're here to ... help each other out, so to speak."

Anise had a couple of choices. One, she could break down and tell the Colonel everything about everything right here and now. Or, she could cover up and turn this around on him, take the opportunity to tease him, thereby taking the focus off her. But it wasn't as if he wouldn't catch onto that right away, no matter how subtle she could manage to make it. What would she do? What should she do?

She laughed.

"Oh, come on, Colonel, don't tell me you're getting soft in your old age, take that however you like."

Jade remained silent.


End file.
